The Joker
by Ida Mirei
Summary: If you are smart, bold and decisive, the world is yours.   At least as long as you do not meet some black shadow on your path…  WD Zorro
1. Sheep and wolves

**The Joker**

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_The story is based on Disney show and you will meet here mostly the characters that you saw in the movie... but slightly different and in different circumstances. __The plot can be understood without seeing the movie, though the direction of some threads will be more difficult to foresee._

_I dedicate this story to IcyWaters. Not because she as usual beta-read it - as for this she has always my gratitude - but because she appreciates Commandante Monastario just as I do, to the point where we wish the smug officer that he could at least once have an upper hand over certain masked bandit._

_I own nothing and the story is written for pleasure only, yours and mine._

* * *

**Sheep and wolves**

The tavern's door crackled when the new visitor opened it stepping into the dim sala. As usual, he stood for a moment in the entrance, waiting for the gathered guest to notice his presence.

At first almost no one paid attention, only the people sitting by the tables nearest to the door cast quick glances in his direction – and immediately stopped their conversations. Their neighbors followed, one by one, and for a moment an uncomfortable silence took the place of the usual cozy rumble of the only tavern in the pueblo of Los Angeles.

Most of the people welcomed the newcomer with more or less polite bows, yet quickly turning their eyes away. No one invited him to their company and no one stood up to approach him with the friendly talk.

The man only smirked with indulgence. Sure, he would never win the popularity contest in this pueblo. Neither has it ever been his intention.

Satisfied – as usual – with the impression he made, Monastario slowly approached his favorite table. Of course it was free. No one would dare to sit at the _commandante's_ table.

Before he managed to wave for one of the maids, the inn-keeper himself brought him a bottle of wine with admirable - but understandable - haste. Wasn't he one of his best clients?

Savoring the wine, Monastario thought that he never felt so good in any other tavern, even in the biggest and most famous cities, even in Spain, or Mexico… He visited so many of them, and nowhere the wine was as good as here.

Well, it was not only about the wine. Monastario didn't like to admit it – even if only before himself – but he felt bad in the big cities, in which his splendid uniform made no impression, as there were plenty other officers, most of them with higher distinctions… and neither in Spain nor in Mexico the conversations silenced when he entered… He had such an unpleasant impression of being small and insignificant there.

Whereas here…

The sala slowly filled again with buzz of voices, even if much quieter than before, when suddenly the conversations were interrupted again, this time by the sounds of guitar and tambourine. A young, cute dancer in a low-necked bodice and red skirt swirled into the sala, picturing with the deft moves the quick rhythm of music. She immediately drew the attention of all gathered guests and Monastario, forgetting his reminiscences, stared at her just as everyone else, not hiding the wide smile.

The girl was pretty and her dance so fiery… No men in the sala could take the eyes from her, as the music was getting wilder and the dance – more passionate. Of course the _commandante_ was the first one whose table she approached with the special show and even more special smile. He thought with satisfaction that it was not only because of his position and full purse, but also because he was one of the best presentable men here. If he visited her later, to pay his appreciation, the girl wouldn't surely mind a few compliments… maybe even a little kiss… or the invitation for private supper… He sighed heavily, calming his imagination. He had to remember about his position in this pueblo. Romancing with the tavern dancer would be far beneath him.

So he only admired the dance, sipping his wine and enjoying such pleasurable closing of the day. Oh, yes, it was a good day, successful one… the day that deserved some celebration.

Monastario's thoughts lazily floated from the dancer to the man he arrested today, when the doors crackled once again and the new guest in the uniform of the King's lancer entered the sala. It was Garcia. Though no one paid attention to him, the fat man also stopped for a moment in the entrance, looking dreamily around, as if he has just gotten into heaven. Then, however, he saddened, lowering his head – obviously again out of money.

Once their eyesight met, the sergeant immediately straightened, trying to look as professional as he only could and energetically strode toward his table.

"Are you done for tonight, Sergeant?" Monastario asked casually.

"Yes, and everything is in perfect order, _Capitán_," Garcia reported, straightened like the string, though he couldn't help sending wistful glances to the half-full bottle of wine staying at the _commandante's_ table.

Then, however, the fat man shook his head, as if moving aside all dreams about the rest over the mug of ruby liquid. His face became a little anxious and his sight ran aside – evident sign he had some problems to report.

"Except from one little matter," he added with hesitation.

"Yes?..."

"Senor de la Vega insisted on seeing Don Nacho. I refused as ordered, but he… he got rather irritated," the sergeant stuttered a little. "He will come tomorrow to speak with you, _Capitán_."

Instead of getting angry as his subordinate feared, Monastario grinned with satisfaction.

"Good!" he exclaimed almost merrily.

That was getting even better than he expected. Today he finally arrested Ignatio Torres, one of the _haciendados _who dared to speak against Monastario's regime in the pueblo… One of the loudest and the boldest of them. At first, the _commandante_ wanted only to get rid of the persistent loudmouth. Then, however, the sharp reaction of Alejandro de la Vega, who was closely befriended with Torres, gave Monastario hope he will also manage to get rid of another enemy.

And de la Vega was definitely the loudest and the boldest one.

Unfortunately, Monastario couldn't imprison him as simply as he did it with Torres, under some far-fetched charges prepared by _Licenciado_ Pina, the _commandante's_ lawyer and accomplice. No, Alejandro was too famous, too rich, he had too many friends…The news of his arrest would certainly reach the governor's ear, and if Monastario hadn't enough good reasons to explain it, it could cost him too much…

Yet now, when the old fool was brought to the limits of his endurance… when he so desperately tried to help his friend in danger… who knows, maybe in the moment of frustration he will finally lose the rest of his control and do something stupid… Something that will legitimate his arrest and enable to get rid of him too…

"You are free now, Sergeant, _gracias_," he said to Garcia.

The soldier almost choked, widely opening his eyes, stunned with the unusual politeness of his superior, but Monastario didn't pay any more attention to the fat sergeant.

He already planned the game he would play with the strong-willed _haciendando_. Initially, Monastario intended to… deal with Torres as quickly as possible. Now he decided to keep him in the cell a few more days… until, with a bit of luck, he will manage to rile up Alejandro enough…

The fate of Torres and de la Vega will be a convincing example for anyone trying to oppose him. Monastario looked around with almost warm smile, not caring that gathered people do their best to avoid his sight.

No, he definitely wasn't insignificant here.

That was his place. Another man feeling what he felt now would say he belonged here, but Monastario knew, it was the opposite. It was this place that belonged to him.

* * *

_Licenciado_ Pina slowly crumbled out of the bed, torn between the need to bury his head under the blanket and sleep a moment longer and the wish to leave the filthy tavern room he spent the night in as soon as possible. Finally the disgust won and he quickly put on his clothes, shaking his head in the vain attempt to get rid of the odour of the fusty bedclothes.

He really didn't want to spend the night in this lousy tavern – the only tavern in San Pedro. It was so near to Los Angeles, to his own comfortable room and bed! Yet the roads were still in very bad condition after the storm that took place last week and he reached San Pedro later than he planned. The dusk was already over the hills, and Pina didn't dare to travel at night, no matter how close his aim was. There were too many bandits lurking in the hill-sides, especially near the route leading from the harbour, waiting for the impatient travellers, so eager to rejoin their families that they didn't want to wait till dawn… _Really, Enrique could do something about these bandits__. After all, wasn't he appointed to guard the security of this land? But of course it would be beneath him! He is made to bigger deeds than chasing some common bandits, _snickered Pina with irritation going downstairs to the sala.

"Have you got some breakfast?" he asked the inn-keeper, who was already wiping some mugs behind his counter. The man wordlessly pointed him the pitchers and plates on the long table under the window.

Only now Pina noticed that in spite of the early hour there were already some guests in the room. One man was drowsing behind the table with his head leant over folded arms, the other one was staying backwards to the sala, looking through the window at the harbour.

Inborn curiosity of the _licenciado_ immediately drew his attention to these two, making him forget for the moment about the fatigue and the lousy tavern. _They couldn't have spent the night here, I would have heard them, _he thought. _Oh, yes, there is the ship in the harbour. They must have just arrived; maybe they just came here to rent the carriage…_

As if confirming his thoughts, the inn-keeper said in his most polite tone:

"The horses should be ready within the quarter, Senor."

The man staying under the window turned to him and nodded. Though he spoke no word, only smiled politely, it was obvious that he almost shivered with impatience. He shifted anxiously from one side to another and looked behind the window so wistfully, as if he was regretting he cannot fly through it.

_These young ones, always so full of vitality, even after the sleepless night… _Pinathought with shadow of envy and headed for the table. He took the pitcher with something that probably used to be milk some time ago and sniffed it content. The smell was definitely discouraging. The reddish man sitting behind the table raised his head and shook it warningly. Pina put the pitcher aside and poured himself some water, taking a piece of bread from the tin plate.

Suddenly the young man near the window budged, nearing even more to the pane and the _licenciado_ immediately followed his glance, curious what caught his attention.

It was the sunrise. The first beams of the rising sun made their way over the hills, brightening the waters of the bay that suddenly glittered like fluid gold.

_Adorable, indeed,_ Pina obliviously shrugged his shoulders and turned his eyes away.

The young man, however, was so excited that he pulled the arm of his sleepy companion, pointing him the view. The reddish man was too tired to care for the pretty landscapes; at first he only grinned angrily and it seemed he was going to shake off the hand of his friend with impatience. Then, however, his sight fell on Pina and something in his behaviour changed: he stood, looked through the bay and nodded meekly, with an obedient smile.

_Licenciado_ Pina noticed immediately this strange change, just as the expression of watchfulness appeared for a second on the otherwise kind-hearted face of the stranger.

That required attention. The inquisitorial bent in the _licenciado_ woke up, urging him to learn something more about these two.

"First time in California, Senores?" he asked trying to sound casual.

The reddish man returned to his place giving no sign that he heard the question, but the admirer of the pretty views turned quickly to the _licenciado_. For a moment he perused at him so inquisitively that Pina felt a bit unsure under his scrutinizing sight.

Then for a second, some merry, sly sparks shined in the eyes of the young man, but quickly faded. When he replied, his face expressed nothing but politeness.

"On the contrary. But I never can remain untouched by the beauty of this land," he replied smiling widely and pointing at the bay.

For a moment Pina was captured by the cordiality of his smile. _Pity that such friendly people are so rare to meet,_ he thought with a touch of nostalgia. Then, however, he reminded himself that he should learn something about the young man. He was a stranger. There was something uncommon in him. It meant that he was very suspicious.

And there was such time now in Southern California, that the more friendly and cordial the stranger was, the more suspicions he awoke.

"So you live in the neighbourhood, Senor? Have you perhaps returned from the far journey?" Pina pointed at the ship, précising his interrogation.

The young man seemed to be eager to respond. He leant to Pina with vivid interest, as if truly drawn into the subject of the conversation:

"The sea voyage provides the most impressive experiences! Sunsets and sunrises over the boundless waters! Each of them is worth the hand of the artist that would put them on the canvas. Have you ever tried to paint, Senor?"

"Paint? No, no I didn't," stuttered Pina surprised by the unexpected turn of the conversation. No one has ever asked him a question like this before.

"Well, I did, but I am afraid I lack the necessary talent," the young man shook nostalgically his head. "Only the best masters can catch this elusive beauty of such moments. Have you perhaps seen the works of Friedrich, this German painter, who got quite popular recently? Caspar Friedrich?"

"I beg your pardon?" If the first question threw Pina out of balance, the second one simply stunned him.

"I had the luck to see a few of his paintings and they made on me unforgettable impression," sighed the young man, obviously unaware of the confusion of his interlocutor.

"Senor," Pina fought to regain the control on the conversation, "I wanted to ask whether you…"

"This sunrise," the young man seemed to care only for the view outside the window, "eerily reminds me about his 'View of the harbour'. He is the master of dawns, don't you think?"

"Yyy, yes, I do, of course," replied Pina giving up. Master of dawns?

"And of the sea," added the young man mercilessly. "No one can catch the nature of the stormy waves under the clouded sky just as he."

"Exactly," Pina nodded meekly.

The salvation came from the little, very dirty stripling who just fell into the tavern and whispered something to the inn-keeper. The man, who until this time remained oblivious to the weird conversation his guests led, now approached quickly the young man:

"Senor, the carriage is ready and your luggage loaded," he said with the bow.

"Excellently!" beamed the young traveller.

Pina understood the reason of the inn-keeper's unusual politeness when he noticed the golden glitter of the coins that his interlocutor carelessly handed to their host.

Then the young man turned to Pina:

"It was a pleasure to talk to you, Senor, but now it is time for me to continue my journey. I hope we will meet each other again," he said with unchanged smile, pulled the arm of his companion, who remained strangely unaware of anything that was happening around him and left the room.

_He is not suspicious, he is just an idiot,_ thought Pina a bit helplessly, staring after the two strangers.

Then, however, he bit his lips with irritation, as he realized that this friendly, talkative man left him with nothing – he didn't even mention his name.

Was the young man so stupid or so clever? Pina couldn't tell. For a moment he just stood in confusion, not sure whether he should feel amused or ridiculed.

Then he waved his hand, giving up. He should take his belongings and see to his horse, when the sunrays warm the air, he will continue his journey as well. As for the two strangers… let them go. They must pass through Los Angeles, and it means that they will have to report to Monastario. _And he will obtain all necessary information_, thought Pina with a malicious smile.

* * *

The sun was already high over the plaza of Los Angeles, but Monastario didn't exit his office yet to check the order in the _cuartel_. Instead, he was preparing himself to the talk with Alejandro de la Vega, wondering how far he must push the old don, so that there would be no doubts left concerning the legality of his arrest.

"The mutiny… The rebellion…. The assault of the government's official…" he muttered to himself searching through Pina's books. "But what does it exactly mean: the assault? Will yelling be enough? Rather not… It would be the best if the old fool draws out his weapon… And what if he threatens me? It would be easy, but what kind of threats… Damn, Pina would know! Where is he, he should have returned yesterday! This scribbler is never at hand when needed!" Monastario bridled in frustration, throwing away the papers.

Alejandro might be known for his temper, yet unfortunately he was not stupid. So far, he managed somehow to avoid all traps Monastario set on him. The outrage he must feel after the imprisonment of his friend was an occasion the _commandante _didn't want to lose.

"_Capitán! _You would never guess who has just arrived!" Monastario's thoughts were interrupted by Sergeant Garcia, who burst into his office unusually for him cheerful and excited.

Monastario furrowed his eyebrows and sent his subordinate menacing glance, discontent with such familiarity.

"Have you forgotten how to enter the quarters of your commanding officer, Sergeant?" he asked reproachfully.

"No, no… I didn't," assured him Garcia, then frowning for a moment, the flash of understanding appearing on his face: "You mean: your quarters, _Capitán_?" he précised.

"I mean knocking!" yelled Monastario.

Garcia flinched, curled up and quickly withdrew a little, raising shyly his hand to knock at the wardrobe.

"Oh, forget it," Monastario almost moaned. "So, who arrived?"

Joyous expression appeared once again at the sergeant's face:

"Don Diego, _Capitán_," he replied with a smile and seeing the angry question of his _commandante's_ face, added quickly: "Don Diego de la Vega."

This time Monastario flinched, hearing the hateful name.

"Someone of Don Alejandro's family?" he asked quickly.

"His son," explained the sergeant, his smile fading slowly, as he saw how his superior's face darkened.

_Damn, that old fool has a son!_ Monastario almost hit his temple. How could he forget about him? Of course he has a son, at the beginning of Monastario's service in Los Angeles, when he was still on friendly terms with the _haciendados_, Alejandro told him sometimes about his only boy studying in Spain and his eyes always shined with such pride... And now this precious son was here, as if the father wasn't a nuisance enough. And…

"Why didn't I hear anything about his return?" he asked sharply, but the sergeant only stared at him helplessly.

"I don't know, _mi Capitán_, perhaps because no one told you about it?..." he replied, adding shyly after the moment: "He waits in front of the _cuartel_ right now. May I say to him he is free to go?"

"Have you forgotten the procedures, Sergeant?" Monastario reprimanded him with new energy, getting over the initial surprise. All right, if the wolf's pup is here, he will deal with him. He will show him at the very beginning who is in power here.

"But it is Don Diego, _Capitán_!" the sergeant, unaware of his superior's thoughts, protested with naïve persuasion.

Monastario only scowled at him and the sergeant moved quickly back:

"I will tell him to come here and fill in the declarations," he muttered quietly.

"No," Monastario stopped him. "Right now I am busy, tell him to wait. I will call for him when I am ready," he grinned. Yes, let him wait. That will be the first lesson.

Garcia didn't dare to reply, only saluted and exited the room and Monastario returned to the code books.

However, he couldn't concentrate on the legal complexities, as his thoughts still returned to the unexpected newcomer. Of course it wasn't good that Alejandro will now have new support on his side, but on the other hand, in conducive circumstances, the boy could be used as the hostage against his father… Surely Alejandro wouldn't be so bold if he knew his son's life depends on his behaviour… The origins of a few nasty plans started to emerge in the _commandante's_ head and he almost smiled to himself. Maybe the young one will be even more than his father prone to – Monastario cast a glance into the book he studied – assaulting the government's official?...

Everything depended on what kind of man Alejandro's son turns out to be. Though Monastario wanted to keep him waiting for a considerable time, the curiosity won and much sooner than intended he exited the office to meet him in person.

Just in front of the _cuartel's_ gate he noticed the carriage and the man staying in its shadow. Monastario stopped and blinked in confusion. Something was wrong in this picture, but what? For a moment he observed the newcomer trying to define the unfitting element. He saw the young, tall man, with an absolutely ridiculous walking stick and the clothes a bit too elegant for the traveller, but there was nothing peculiar in him except for the fact that… well, yes. He was reading a book.

Monastario blinked once more, hardly resisting the urge to wipe his eyes. Oh, sure, plenty of people read books in Los Angeles. Padre Felipe had quite an impressive assemblage in the mission, almost every rich _haciendado_ or merchant took it as a point of honour to gather an appreciable library, senoritas with the ambition to appear educated read a lot of novels or poetry, even Monastario had a few shelves of beautifully rimmed volumes… But he has never seen anyone so obsessed with the lecture that he would read it in the middle of the sunny plaza…

_For Heaven's Sake, he has just returned after a few years of absence! He should look around, talk with people, show some… interest!_ Monastario thought with amazement, shaking his head. Even more watchful and concentrated than before, he approached the young man.

"Senor de la Vega," he drew his attention and presented himself shortly: "Enrique Sanchez Monastario, _commandante_ of the pueblo. I am sorry I had to keep you waiting," he said a bit challengingly, malicious smirk indicating he is not sorry at all.

But Alejandro's son didn't pick a quarrel.

"It is not a problem at all, _commandante_, with a good lecture time passes quickly," he replied raising the book. Monastario cast a quick glance at the cover, yet the title was too long and complex for him to follow.

Instead he looked scrutinizingly at the young man, reminding himself he faces the son of his sworn enemy. He searched in his face, in his eyes, for any sign of this famous de la Vega temper and impatience… of this stubbornness that made Alejandro such persistent opponent… any sign of this strength that was so visible in his father's behavior…

And he found none. The young caballero patiently allowed the _commandante_ this silent examination. His face expressed flawless – maybe a little distracted – politeness, though he couldn't help his eyes running over and over in the direction of the book he kept.

_He is bored… He cares neither for me, nor for the home he hadn't seen for so long!_ thought Monastario incredulously. He felt so confused that he almost forgot his animosity toward the newcomer and said politely:

"Please, _Senor_, follow me to my office. You will just have to fill in the declaration, it won't take long."

The young man nodded and handed the book to his companion. Only now Monastario noticed that he didn't travel alone.

"Is it your servant, _Senor_?" he asked inquisitively, but the young man only waved lazily his hand.

"Yes, but he cannot hear or speak. I will fill in for him all the declarations you need, _Commandante."_

"This way, please," Monastario pointed him the gate, "but carefully, _Senor_!" he grabbed the young don's arm, preventing him from the fall, when he stumbled over the shovels and brooms that lancers left under the wall after tidying the _cuartel's_ yard.

"I am afraid it is not a pavement in Madrid," the _commandante_ added a bit cutting.

"No, indeed," agreed the young man with polite smile, "but anyway it is very beautiful here."

Monastario only sighed._ No matter what I say he won't even catch it_, he thought disheartened, totally losing the will to taunt his guest.

As they entered his office and Alejandro's son started to fill in the documents, Monastario observed him watchfully, trying to figure out what kind of man the young don really is. He seemed so… awkward… Well, he must have been making a good career during his studies, if he appreciated the books so much… Probably he was also a star of the society, judging from his perfect manners, polite smile, impeccable appearance… yes, the elegant, merry life in Madrid was something he belonged to… So why on the hell did he come back?

"_Senor_, it is a small pueblo and no news can remain here a secret, yet we didn't hear anything about your return?" Monastario asked innocently, trying to seem casual.

His caution was not necessary, Alejandro's son replied immediately and direct:

"Originally I was to stay in Spain for one more year. However, I decided to interrupt my studies," seeing the questioning glance of the _commandante_ he explained: "because of health problems."

Health problems? Monastario looked at his interlocutor incredulously. The young man seemed to be remarkably fit and healthy. No one could even say that he had a few months of a long, exhausting sea voyage behind him. Suddenly through the _commandante's_ head ran the thought about consumption and he couldn't help but step back.

"I am sorry to hear that. May I ask what kind of…" Monastario hung his voice, badly wanting to learn some details, yet limited by the social rules forbidding him to be too inquisitive in such ticklish subject.

However, the young man, not offended or abashed even a little, explained obliviously shrugging his shoulders:

"There were far too many physical exercises to my liking."

_Physical exercises._ Luckily Monastario managed to bite his tongue before he laughed aloud. Damn, he was beginning to like this man. He would give a half of his life to see Alejandro's face when his son explains him the reason of his return.

Monastario cleared his throat to cover the chuckle and ask as seriously as he could:

"So, I guess, you prefer more… calm forms of entertainment, _Senor_?"

"I am not a soldier and I will never be, why should I sweat with the steel in my hand?" Alejandro's son laughed, but quickly reflected himself looking at Monastario a bit apologetically: "No offence, _Capit__án_, I fully appreciate the responsibility that lies on the army. I just wanted to say, that as we have such brave officers to protect our security and welfare," he bowed to Monastario, indicating that the compliment was directed to him, "there is no need for others to grab for the weapon. I believe that violence and force should be as limited as it is only possible."

_So much for assaulting the government's official_, thought Monastario a bit nostalgically. No, that boy won't ever be provoked to attack any lancer… Lancer! Probably he wouldn't even be able to kick off the dog trying to bite his ankle; instead he would run for help to the city guards…

De la Vega finished filling in the declarations and handed over the papers to Monastario. The _commandante_ quickly looked them through and nodded.

However, no matter how innocent and harmless the young don seemed to be, Monastario couldn't resist having the last word in their conversation.

"You may be sure, Senor de la Vega, that you will find the order in Los Angeles just to your liking. Here lancers guard the peace and security of the citizens and there is no need for the others to… endanger themselves grabbing the weapon," he said, stressing the last sentence in such way, that anyone else would take it as a warning.

Anyone, but of course not this dandy. There was no flash of anger, caution or confusion in the eyes of the young man, only polite smile, as he bowed replying:

"I am very glad to hear it. You may be sure, ___Capit__án_, that nothing is closer to my heart than the order in which the power is used properly. Within my humble powers I will certainly do anything to contribute to it." He smiled even more cordially than before and added: "You may count on me, ___Capit__án_."

Monastario replied with a bow and short smile, opening the doors for the young man. Then he returned to his desk, chuckling.

Suddenly he stopped. The return of the young don meant that Alejandro will be today too busy to pay the promised visit in the _cuartel_. The _commandante_ grimaced with disappointment.

"Well, Don Nacho, it seems that your life has just been prolonged, a least till tomorrow…" he whispered.

* * *

_Licenciado_ Pina stopped for a moment in the yard, taking a deep breath before entering Monastario's office. As usual, he felt a little anxious before meeting the _commandante_.

In general, his feelings toward his employer were… complicated. Actually, he should be grateful – when Monastario met him, Pina was in a very difficult situation, desperately trying to find some clients among the drunken troublemakers in the meanest taverns of Mexico City, not being able to earn more money that was necessary to grant him the accommodation for the next day. Sometimes, he didn't even manage to earn that much. Now, in this pueblo, he was one of the most significant citizens, with a nice flat and considerable savings. So, he should be grateful – and he was. Yet, there was also the other side of the coin. Before he met Monastario, he never did anything directly against the law. Well, at least not anything that could get him into real troubles. And now, with Enrique… They crossed the limits, they crossed them far too many times. The _licenciado_ already forgot how was it too sleep calmly at night.

Monastario had the courage Pina lacked, the courage he both admired and hated.

Pina threw an anxious glance at the cell in which Don Nacho Torres was closed and swallowed hard. The _licenciado_ prepared the bill of indictment of this man before his travel to Santa Barbara. Monastario asked him to, so he obeyed. Now the ranchero was arrested. Pina preferred not to know what the _commandante_ was really going to do with his prisoner, yet he feared he will have to hear it.

Hear and accept.

For a moment, his sight met the eyes of the imprisoned man. Pina shivered, quickly turned his head and entered the office.

"So, finally you are back!" exclaimed Monastario. "What kept you so long? I was expecting you yesterday!"

"I stayed for a night in San Pedro," replied Pina. He didn't dare mention the bandits. Monastario wasn't the man who easily takes any complaints.

"Speaking about San Pedro," Pina added, trying to forget the glance Don Nacho sent him, "I have met two peculiar men in the harbor. They must have passed by Los Angeles no earlier than two hours ago. One was tall, young, in a blue suit embroidered with gold – very embroidered – and…

"It was the young de la Vega. Son of Alejandro," Monastario interrupted him. For a moment he wrinkled his brows, finally shook his head giving up: "I forgot his name. The sergeant will remember, he knew him before the boy left for Spain."

Pina stiffened and looked at the _commandante_ in disbelief.

"No matter the name! Alejandro's son returned and you say it so calmly?"

"I do, because there is nothing to worry about," Monastario laughed. "I spoke with him, he is nothing more than a harmless dandy. Oh, no doubts he was a very glamorous gentleman in Madrid, but here… I think he will have too many difficulties with adapting himself to the life here to cause us any troubles," the _commandante_ chuckled maliciously once again.

Pina didn't share his joyous mood. He tried not to show it, but he was always very afraid of Alejandro de la Vega. When the old don started to shout, the _licenciado_ had to gather all his strength to resist the urge to run away. And now he will also have to face his son…

"Why did he return?" he asked sharply.

"Well, he seems to be quite comfortable man. I believe he just got tired with the efforts of living alone and returned under the care of his pápá…" replied Monastario waving for the _licenciado_ to sit down, yet Pina remain on his feet, still stiff and alert.

"And the second one? Low, reddish, a bit plump?"

"It might have been his servant. I am not sure, I didn't look at him too exactly."

"There was something strange in him," said Pina with pensiveness. "If he is a servant, he appeared to be a bit too familiar with his master…"

"Oh, he cannot hear or speak, maybe they communicate in some strange manner," Monastario shrugged his shoulders and Pina nodded. That was possible. However, forgetting the servant, he still had many doubts concerning his master.

"But the young de la Vega?..." he started once again, though he noticed that Monastario is getting a bit impatient with the conversation. "Listen, personally I have nothing against this man, on the contrary, when I talked to him, he seemed to be quite likeable. A bit weird, but very polite. But the fact that he is Alejandro's son…"

"Don't worry, in this case the apple has fallen far from the tree," Monastario waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, yes, he is quite a bookworm, so occasionally he may quote us some laws, but it will be your task to cope with it. Nothing serious. I know men like him, they may protest, talk, complain for hours, but they never ever actually do something. Now, please, stop worrying and sit down. There are some things we have to discuss."

Pina didn't move.

"I am not sure if you are right. No matter what kind of man he is, the same fact that he is a de la Vega means we will have problems with him," he repeated stubbornly.

"No we won't!" yelled Monastario, losing his temper. "Stop crowing! He will have problems with moving around his father's rancho in his shiny shoes! His father will have problems with making him even enter the stables, not mentioning touching one of his famous horses! But we certainly won't have any problems with him!"

"All right, if you are so certain, the better," Pina raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Because I met someone else, someone that could mean real troubles for us," he started taking the deep breath.

Monastario moaned, squeezing his head with the hands.

"No, not again! Are you a man, or a child afraid of its own shadow? Whom else have you met? Please, do tell me. What kind of new menace crossed your path? The governor on the tollgate of the pueblo, with the order of my dismissal in his sleeve? The king himself travelling the road, with the sentence of our exile? Or maybe Archangel Gabriel with the flame sword, to send us both straight to the hell?"

Pina took the shouting with the offended face.

"I met some strange men in Santa Barbara," he said stiffly. "And do not joke in such way, all right? Not about the hell."

The _commandante_ only stared for him for a moment and Pina saw he is fighting with laughter.

"So, whom did you meet in Santa Barbara?" he asked in a tone indicating that he has just gathered the remains of his patience. The _licenciado_ tried to gather his and finally sat on the chair Monastario showed him.

"I could rather say they met me. They approached me in the tavern I stayed in. Two men, seemingly wealthy, they didn't say their names. And they wanted to speak about you."

"About me?" Monastario looked at him with interest. "They asked about me?"

"No, they didn't ask about anything," Pina shook his head. "They said they know I am working closely with you. And they said they know all your sins and ambitions."

"Sins and ambitions?" repeated Monastario, staring at him in disbelief.

"That is the expression they used. Sounds strange, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but it doesn't mean anything," Monastario tried to appear oblivious, but Pina knew he felt a bit confused. "So, what was it they wanted? Revenge? Blackmail?"

"Here comes the best part," the _licenciado_ smirked. "They said they might offer their help… in exchange for yours."

Monastario walked up and down the room, his hand folded behind his back.

"What precisely did they offer? And what did they want?"

"I don't know," Pina shook his head. "They said it is too early to speak about the details. They just wanted me to pass to you that… that there is someone who might help you become the most powerful man in this region. And that they will contact us soon once again. That's all."

For a few minutes Monastario continued to walk through the room. Suddenly he stopped, and to Pina's surprise, loudly laughed.

"That's all?" he asked and when Pina nodded, he laughed even louder. "And that is what you are so anxious about? That's too far, even for you! Two unknown men approach you saying that they are oh-so-powerful and fearsome and you immediately get panicked?"

"You should have seen them," muttered Pina reluctantly. "They were not some ordinary boasters."

"No, not boasters," agreed Monastario, "but scavengers, searching for carrion. Cheaters, trying to elude us and gain something… from our loot."

Pina wanted to protest, but Monastario smiled with indulgence:

"Can't you see? They not only didn't say what they can offer, but also what they want. And I will tell you why – because they don't know. They have just heard something about us, true, but nothing specific. So, they tried to frighten you, hoping they will frighten me as well. Soon they will come to Los Angeles, to get oriented in the situation and continue the intrigue. And then I will arrange for them the proper welcome," Monastario smiled in a very unpleasant way.

_That all sounds reasonable, perhaps Enrique is right_, thought Pina a bit heartened. _Perhaps I am exaggerating? I got rather nervous recently._ And yet…

"They didn't look for men who accept easily the refusal, apologize for the inconvenience and leave," Pina felt obliged to warn the _commandante_. Having said this he almost closed his eyes, afraid of the new outburst of his superior.

However, Monastario didn't start to shout.

"Tomás, look through the window," he said surprisingly calm, pointing him the view of the _cuartel's_ yard and plaza of Los Angeles, filled with the usual crowd: colorful jackets of the lancers, natives and vaqueros in plain clothes, a few rancheros with their beautiful horses – all mixed together in the usual business day.

Pina followed obediently his glance, but frowned. Monastario hardly ever spoke to him by name. Was he starting to treat him as friend? No, not possible. Monastario had no friends. Neither did Pina. And yet it was… nice. Pina listened gladly when the _commandante_ spoke:

"What you see is the world of sheep and wolves. Occasionally there are vultures, like these you met in Santa Barbara. When will you realize that in this word we are the most dangerous beasts? We are the wolves. We do not have to fear anyone. The others should fear us, do you understand?"

"You are right. After all, we are the…" Pina hesitated not knowing how to finish the sentence. The most evil? It didn't sound well.

"The strongest," concluded Monastario fiercely.

"And now, we have to talk seriously," he continued sitting in front of the _licenciado_. "Have you seen Nacho Torres in the cell? I must discuss with you how are we going to… finalize this matter."


	2. The Fuse

**The Fuse**

"I don't care. If you want to send these men to the gallows, you need to find better reason than that. It is just not enough. I won't prepare you the justification of the death sentence basing on such evidences," Pina threw at the _commandate's_ desk the pile of papers he worked on the whole evening.

The nights were for Pina the time of anxious reflections, when he stirred for hours in darkness imagining the consequences of what he decided to do during the day, troubled by doubts, hesitation, fear…

Monastario, however, slept well and without dreams, so now he was as usual full of energy and new plans – and definitely didn't welcome Pina's dilemmas.

"Be careful, _Licenciado_. I am finding the aims, finding the reasons is your job. If you are not able to fulfil it… you are becoming useless," he stated slowly with unpleasant smile.

Pina didn't reply, only rubbed his temple. Then he quietly took the papers and started to flick them through once more. For someone who knew as much about Monastario as he… it was definitely healthier to be useful.

Monastario in the meantime leant on the window frame and observed the _cuartel's_ yard. He saw Sergeant Garcia, wandering up and down near Torres' cell and unsurely trying to start the conversation with the prisoner. His attempts were in vain, as Torres only moved himself deeper into his confinement. The fat man just stood silently for a moment in front of the cell, and Monastario could imagine how pitiful his big face must have looked like... Then his shoulders slumped down, head lowered and the sergeant shuffled heavily toward the gate.

Monastario smirked. Garcia was stupid and clumsy, yet there was something in him that the _commandante_ despised even more than his incompetence – namely his need to be on friendly terms with all the people around him. So, that fat fool lived many years in this cosy, warm pueblo and indeed everyone liked him… until Monastario took command. Now the common aversion that surrounded the _commandante_ became also the share of his subordinate.

Suddenly Monastario straightened, seeing how Garcia led two men in caballero's suits through the yard.

"We have guests, _Licenciado_. I knew that nothing will keep Alejandro long from helping his dear friend," the _commandante_ gloated at Pina with an ironic smirk and cast one more glance through the window.

De la Vega quickly neared to the cell to exchange a few words with Torres. His moves were decisive and energetic as usual and he was, of course, wearing the sword by his side… Good, very good. If he only touches the hilt… Monastario smiled almost joyously.

As for Alejandro's son – Monastario forgot to ask Garcia to remind his name – he appeared even more foppish and out of place than yesterday. The young man greeted Don Nacho too and looked around the _cuartel_ in obvious confusion_,_ as if he was seeing such building for the first time in his life. Well, most probably he was seeing the military building for the first time in his life. He stared at the stables roof so much, that he stumbled over the trough and would certainly landed in the yard's dust, if Garcia didn't hold him in time. _That boy needs a nanny!_ chuckled Monastario, now fully amused.

When the de la Vegas entered the office, Don Alejandro greeted the _commandante_ with the short, reluctant nod.

"_Capitán_, I heard you met my son yesterday," he stated harshly instead of presentation.

Monastario curiously looked at the young man, wondering, how he will behave after all the calumnies that Alejandro must have told him about the _commandante_.

However, the young de la Vega didn't seem hostile or anxious. He even smiled to the _commandante_, though simultaneously he was blinking and fighting to suppress the yawn. In fact he was just… sleepy or bored… well, generally dissatisfied with the fact he has to be up at such early hour.

"My associate, _Licenciado_ Pina," Monastario presented his companion.

"We also have met," Alejandro's son bowed politely, straightening some invisible wrinkles on his vest, "and we had the most interesting discussion I hope to continue. The _licenciado_ is the enthusiast of painting," he explained to his father.

Don Alejandro watched the scene with slight confusion on his face. Hearing the last words of his son, he measured Pina with a glance clearly saying 'Enthusiast or not, you are no more than a crooked rascal' and waved his hand with impatience.

"Well, you may continue it later. Right now I came here in the matter concerning Don Ignatio Torres," he came to the point, turning to the _commandante_: "How long are you going to keep him imprisoned, _Capitán_?"

The young man meekly silenced, placing himself aside by the wall, his hands folded and sight aimed at the tips of his shiny shoes. Obviously, he didn't intend to participate in the conversation… and Monastario forgot the son, concentrating himself on the father. He sat comfortably behind his desk, ordered some papers on its top and only then replied, calmly but with rather impudent smile.

"As long as it will be necessary. Torres is accused of treason."

"Opposing your tyranny it is not the treason." Alejandro didn't sit, only rested his hands on the _commandante's_ desk, leaning in his direction. "You are not the source of justice here, Monastario."

Monastario observed his tensed pose with satisfaction. _Very good. He wants confrontation and I will give it to him… _

"And you are not the one to decide about it, Senor," he stated glaring at the older man with irony.

"I am his friend. Besides, I am the member of the city council. You have no right to imprison whoever you want without our consent."

Monastario leant back playing with the ink-pot.

"On the contrary. Don't forget that your… council is under my supervision," he smirked scornfully and added: "I am granted the right to take all means necessary to ensure the security of this pueblo."

"It is not the security you want to…" started Alejandro leaning himself a bit more forward, when suddenly his son chimed in:

"Father, the _commandante_ is right. Los Angeles is under military supervision," he stated very quietly, but Monastario didn't like his tone. It was too… watchful. He also didn't like the fact that Alejandro, surprised by his son's words, straightened and looked at him questioningly, for a moment forgetting about Monastario.

The young man raised the hand to his chin and continued smoothly, as if unaware of reluctant glances, both of his father and the _commandante_:

"Of course, I am sure that the _capitán_ wouldn't dismiss the opinion of the _cabildo_… For the sake of the mutual relations he will surely take into consideration what we can tell him about our friend and neighbour… On the other hand, neither the council nor the _alcalde_ or any of us, wouldn't like to compromise the safety of the community. So, if the _capitán_ disposes with the proofs pointing that… Oh, and, by the way, what sort of proofs against Don Nacho do you actually have, _Capitán_?"

Monastario just looked at him blinking, surprised by the unexpected conclusion of this suave speech that put him off guard, so Pina quickly replied:

"The investigation is still in progress. We cannot reveal any details as there maybe others involved in the plot."

Young de la Vega narrowed his eyes and wanted to say something, but his father almost jumped, piercing Monastario with an indignant sight.

"Others? So, you want to get rid of all your opponents at once, Monastario? So that you could terrorize this land without anyone getting in your way? I will never let you harm…"

_Perfect, _thought Monastario seeing the outburst of the _haciendado. _He quickly stood up and neared to de la Vega, looking him straight in the eyes:

"You can do nothing," he accented, knowing well what was Alejandro's biggest weakness – he couldn't bear being helpless.

That was it. Alejandro tensed, leant forward and his eyes glittered in such a way, that even if Monastario was seeking the confrontation, he couldn't help slight shiver.

"I swear to you, that…" he started with a changed voice when suddenly his son grabbed his arm, turning him aside, forcing him to move the sight from Monastario to his face.

"Father. _Por favor_. Be reasonable," he said quietly, in a calm, almost tender voice.

Alejandro looked at his son for a while… and slowly the fire in his eyes faded and his face softened, as he nodded a few times, giving up.

"You are right, Diego," he replied warmly with a smile that reflected his son's expression.

Monastario observed the scene keeping ironic smile on his face, yet deep inside…

Deep inside, he was curling with envy.

His own father only once looked at him with such expression and even then… No, no, it was not the time to snivel. Yet, it was bitter to witness now how this young… clown… who did nothing to earn the respect of his father... who didn't even finish these studies of his….

"_Capitán_?" the voice of the young de la Vega woke Monastario from his reminiscences, "_Capitán_, when you finish your… investigation… I am sure that you will present the proofs of your accusations to the council and _alcalde_?"

Monastario only nodded obliviously, not trying to return to his confrontation with Don Alejandro. That battle was lost… the only thing he could do was to prepare the next one.

* * *

"Young de la Vega was right. You shouldn't dismiss the opinion of the _cabildo_," said Pina, surprised with the silence of his employer that prolonged a good while after the de la Vegas left the office.

Monastario slowly moved the eyes on the _licenciado_ and on his face appeared his usual malicious smirk.

"Oh, but the fop had a lot of excellent ideas today. For example, that no one would like to compromise the safety of the community, when it is endangered."

Pina shook his head.

"I am sorry, _Capitán_, but the fact that someone speaks against you doesn't mean that the safety of the community is endangered," he stated a bit ironically.

"And what if there would be an attack, not on me, but… on the _cuartel_? Wouldn't it be reason enough… the reason you wanted me to find?" Monastario smiled a bit wider… and Pina didn't like what this smile suggested… he didn't like it at all.

"The _cuartel_? You mean that someone could attack the _cuartel_?" he asked uncertainly.

"Not simply someone, but someone in vaquero's clothes... Someone we would recognize as one of Torres' vaqueros. Wouldn't it be reason enough to execute his master as… swiftly as possible? And when I hang Torres, Alejandro should lose the remains of his reason, even with this trim Guardian Angel by his side."

"How will you made someone attack the cuartel?" précised Pina, stiff with anxiety.

"I am not talking about the direct attack, only about a treacherous, mean action, aimed at… lowering our defensive abilities…" the _commandante_ rubbed his hands and, seeing the confusion on Pina's face, added: "Well, if someone, for example would try to destroy our stock of gunpowder? Wouldn't it be dangerous enough?"

The _licenciado_ jumped on his feet and, forgetting the usual distance between him and his employer, grabbed Monastario's arm.

"Gunpowder? You want to blow up the _cuartel's_ gunpowder? Are you mad, _Capitán_?" Pina stressed the last word, reminding Monastario about his rank. "It is treason!"

Monastario bridled with irritation. Treason? What was that scribbler was saying? Monastario's will was the highest law here, how could anything he does be considered treason?

And yet, through Monastario's mind flashed some uncomfortable memories of his superiors in Santa Barbara, the governor in Monterey, the military oath he took so many years ago…

He moved them aside with angry snicker. Governor! The only thing he cared about was shipping off the suitable share of taxes to Spain, as it granted him King's approval and certainty of his office.

As for the King… he probably couldn't even locate California on the map.

No, it was indeed the world of sheep and wolves and Monastario wasn't going to be the meek dog, guarding the herd for someone else's prey.

He shook Pina's hand away.

"Don't be silly, _Licenciado_. I am not going to destroy all the powder, only the barrels we keep to be at hand, in the storage near the gate. The rest is safely hidden in the cellar. As for the… political matters… do not worry yourself with it. I seek only legal advice from you."

Pina rubbed his temple and looked around, as if searching for some arguments that could persuade Monastario to give up this madness. Suddenly his eyes fell on the window and he stiffened.

"Someone's out there!"

Monastario grabbed his sword and rushed out of the office. However, as soon as saw the silhouette of the man sitting on the veranda under the widow, he relaxed and sheathed the weapon.

"It is only the servant of the young de la Vega. Don't worry, he cannot hear. Besides, don't you think he is a bit… weak-minded?" he observed pointing at the plump man, who, with maniac stubbornness, tried to settle some wooden toy, unaware of anything around him.

"I don't know, when I met him at the harbour, he didn't seem to be weak-minded to me," muttered Pina.

"And why this does not surprise me…" sighed Monastario and pulled the servant's arm, pointing him the gate of the _cuartel_. The man looked at him groggily and didn't move, so the _commandante_ impatiently grabbed his collar and pushed him out of the veranda. He also tried to add a kick, but the servant was already running through the patio in the most ridiculous haste.

"The servant worth his master," Monastario showed his teeth in a wide smile and turned to Pina. "Now, go home, _Licenciado_, and rest. Tomorrow morning, after the most misfortunate attack on our _cuartel_, we will have the court-martial."

* * *

_This is wrong, this is all wrong, it cannot end well, I don't want to be in it… _panicked thoughts rattled in Pina's head as he exited the _cuartel_. He always used to follow one main rule in his life: do not mess with people that are stronger than you. Now, thanks to Monastario, he was in the conflict with the most powerful landowners in Southern California and soon, if the _commandante_ proceeds with his insane plan, he will be guilty of complicity in the state offence.

And yet, the only thing he could do was to blunder further, hoping that Monastrio's luck will be strong enough to save the heads of them both.

To calm himself down a little, he decided for a late breakfast in the tavern. At the entrance he hesitated, seeing one of the de la Vegas beautiful horses tethered under the building… but luckily inside he saw not Don Alejandro, only his son.

Pina sighed with relief and took place. Waiting for his order, he observed the young man who has just finished a chess match with the _alcalde_. The _licenciado_ couldn't see who won, yet both men laughed and congratulated themselves in the best moods. Then the _alcalde_ took de la Vega to other guests; some of them greeted him as the old acquaintance, some others presented themselves. The merry buzz of voices filled in the tavern, usually quiet at this time of day.

_It seems that he doesn't have as many difficulties with adapting himself to the life in Los Angeles as Enrique predicted_, noticed Pina obliviously.

Sergeant Garcia entered the tavern and Pina couldn't help but smile, seeing the dejected lancer mooning through the room, searching for some other soldiers… or more precisely, some other soldiers with money. Having found none, he slowly headed for the exit, when the young de la Vega crossed his way.

"Sergeant! You are leaving already? Please, won't you sit here for a while? We have a few years to make up for, don't you think?" he asked merrily, pointing to the table.

"Gracias... Senor de la Vega, but…" stuttered Garcia looking unsurely around, yet the young man only laughed.

"Since when do you address me that way? Please, Sergeant, sit with me and tell me, what…"

He was interrupted by one of the men accompanying the _alcalde_, Juan Peralta, who stood up and approached them with darkened face.

"Senor de la Vega… You have been away for a while, you may not be aware that some things have changed. We do not drink with soldiers."

The hurt expression on Garcia's usually so jovial face was visible even from Pina's corner. Yet, the fat man neither got angry nor defended himself, only mumbled, swirling in the direction of the doors:

"I didn't… I should anyway…" He would probably leave just leave like the beaten dog, if de la Vega didn't stop him, putting the hand on his shoulder. The young man turned to Peralta speaking calmly, though his voice changed a little:

"I know nothing about the soldiers. I am going to drink with Sergeant Garcia, whom I have known for many years… As for you, Senor, you may stay with us or leave, it is up to you."

Juan bridled surprised by the objection, but the _alcalde_ pulled his sleeve.

"Sit down, Juan. When you have my years, you will learn to see behind the clothes one wears."

Having said that, the old man moved a little making the place for the sergeant. The tension faded as the men took their places, and soon the usual rumble surrounded the table, this time filled in with the deep bass of Garcia.

However, even if Peralta muttered some apologies toward the sergeant, he stared for a while very reluctantly toward de la Vega. The young man simply kept his glance, with slightly crooked head and narrowed eyes, until Juan gave up and lowered the sight to his glass.

"I was right. There is more in this man than meets the eye," whispered Pina to himself.

* * *

"Sergeant Garcia will take all the lancers on the night manoeuvres. Only you and me will be staying in the _cuartel_ tonight," said Monastario to Private Sepulveda.

The soldier nodded and curiously waited for the _commandante_ to speak further, so Monastario continued:

"When the _cuartel_ is empty, you will change into some vaquero's clothes. I have it already prepared for you. Then you make the fuse, lead it out of the storage with gunpowder – outside the walls of the _cuartel_, Torres cannot see you doing this – light it… and get back to your room. Whatever happens, first destroy the clothes. If anyone asks later, you had a very firm sleep that night. Well, actually you may say that you have noticed some of Torres' vaqueros lurking around the _cuartel_… but nothing more." Monastario finished and pierced the soldier with watchful glance.

Private Sepulveda grinned smoothly:

"I understand perfectly. Is that all?"

"No," Monastario cut him in a tone that made the soldier's knowing smile disappear in a second. "If you fail… or if you speak too much… you are as well as dead, do you understand?"

"Si, _mí Capitán_," replied Sepulveda with much more respect than before.

"Now that is all. Dismissed," finished Monastario.

No, it wasn't wise to introduce the soldier into the plot… But what else could he do? Monastario always followed one main rule in life: if you have to do something on your own, find someone else to do it for you. In case of failure you will have another to put the guilt on.

Besides, Sepulveda already knew much about Monastario. And Monastario knew much more about Sepulveda.

When the night came and Sergeant Garcia with resigned expression set off with the lancers for the manoeuvres that should take the whole night, Monastario laid himself comfortably in a bed with a book. Since he saw young de la Vega with the lecture, he couldn't shake off the impression that there was something very… elegant about it.

So, he tried to read, though he couldn't concentrate, involuntarily tensed, waiting for the sound of the explosion. His sight ran over and over again into the direction of the window - it was getting darker and darker. Finally, it was absolutely dark.

And still nothing happened.

After two hours, Monastario couldn't bear it any longer. He threw the book aside and peeked into the yard.

Nothing, only darkness.

What that fool was waiting for? Surely everyone at the pueblo was sound asleep by now. The time was running away. What if Garcia will miss his bed so much, that he returns earlier on some excuse? Finally, Monastario gave up and exited the room. The storage with the gunpowder was situated near the small side doors that in the times of peace were usually widely opened, for the merchant with supplies during the days and… well, yes, for the merry girls during the nights. In the restless times like these, the doors were carefully barricaded with the pile of boxes and barrels. Private Sepulveda must have removed at least part of them to lead the fuse outside, yet Monastario didn't dare to use that way, in case it would be lit in the meantime. He exited through the main gate and carefully headed into the direction where the fuse should be prepared.

Indeed, it was. Even in the dim moon light, Monastario could see the cord on the ground. Yet, it was still not burning. The _commandante_ spotted the dark silhouette hidden near the doors.

"What are you still doing here, you idiot?" he hissed. "Light the fuse and get away."

He almost turned back, ready to leave the place of explosion as soon as possible, when the dark stain he thought to be Private Sepulveda parted from the shadow of the wall.

"So soon? But we barely met, _Capitán_," sounded soft, yet mocking voice.

Monastario quickly moved in his direction – and his eyes widened as instead of Sepulveda he saw the man in a black cape and hat shadowing his face. Or, more precisely, the black mask on his face.

"Who on the hell…?"

"Someone who has a few reservations toward your… strategy, _Capitán_," replied the shadow in the same tone as before and kicked the fuse lying on the ground. It was cut.

Monastario glimpsed at the useless string under his feet and then looked at the man in front of him more carefully, realising that the view was most unusual.

To start with, his face was covered. Monastario was used to the bandits hiding their features, but this time it was different. This time it was not the filthy bandana wrapped around the mouth, only the black, carefully cut mask hiding the upper part of the face.

And it was not only the mask. Everything else in the stranger was uncommon, starting from the cape flowing from his shoulders like a piece of the night, to his black shoes and soft gloves. Silk and leather seemed to shine in the moonlight with some strange glow.

Monastario shook his head, trying to think logically. Such costume must have cost a lot of effort. So, the _commandante_ quickly reasoned, whoever was wearing it, must have prepared himself carefully, not for one-strike attack, but for the long-time… campaign…

And he was so… black. Like the shadow. Like the night around them. Like some damned devil.

"And what the abomination are you?" the _commandante_ asked slowly narrowing his eyes and making a step closer… though something in him wanted to make a step in opposite direction…

"You may call me Zorro," replied the stranger with the laughter in his voice, the white teeth suddenly flashing in the wide smile.

"The Fox? Catchy. I will remember to use it farewelling you at the gallows," hissed Monastario, slowly regaining his composure.

"You may not have that occasion, _Capitán_…" the masked man neared a little unsheathing his rapier. The moon light glittered on the blade and for a moment it looked like a silver beam.

That was at least something Monastario understood. He took out his weapon, as usual relishing the sound of the steal leaving the sheath.

Oh, yes, that was something he understood, that was something he loved. He lunged forward at the masked intruder and when the blades clashed, he almost closed his eyes with delight.

When the stranger effortlessly blocked his first stabs, Monastario even pleased, that it is not some clumsy vaquero only the real swashbuckler who will provide better entertainment. The _commandante_ carefully controlled his attacks, decided he will not simply run the bandit through, only bring him to his knees… and rip this infuriating mask off with its owner still alive, helpless and begging for mercy.

His eyes shined at this prospect and he eagerly dived into the exchange of thrust and parries.

Oh, yes, this man was good. So quick, so agile and definitely well-trained. He moved through the darkness with admirable speed, only the glitter of his blade marking his position. That was a real entertainment indeed!

Monastario was so lost in his glee that it took him a long while to understand something is not exactly as it should be. Or rather, that something is quite wrong.

No matter what the _commandante_ did, he couldn't corner his opponent into the disadvantageous position, force him to defensive fight or knock the sword of his hand.

_He is not getting tired. He is not making mistakes,_ Monastario thought with unpleasant surprise.

He was giving the best of himself, using the most sophisticated tricks he has ever learnt – yet it helped nothing. The shadow in front of him was parrying everything as effortlessly as at the beginning and his silver blade seemed to get more and more difficult to block.

Slowly the shadow of anxiety started to clench Monastario's throat. Now he would give very much for the occasion to simply run his opponent through.

A strong blow sent him to the ground and even though the _commandante_ didn't drop his sword and jumped quickly to his feet, the anxiety turned into the panic.

Once he first admitted a sting of fear, the wave of frightening realisations overran him immediately. Monastario understood that it is he who is getting tired. His fingers clutching too tightly the hand guard of the sword began to numb. His legs were too stiff, a few times he stumbled over the even ground. He had more and more difficulties with noticing the moves of his opponent and parrying his thrusts.

_I will lose this fight_, desperate thought crossed through his mind and he felt dizzy.

No, no, no. He has never lost a duel. He was the most skilled and practiced fencer in the garrisons of Monterey and Santa Barbara. He only had to gather his strength for one last effort.

And he did so. Even if something in him whispered he shouldn't attack right now, only calm down and concentrate, he tensed his muscles and lunged forward with all determination.

In the next second his hand was empty and he heard his sword hit the ground somewhere far behind him.

"How reckless. Childish mistake," reprimanded him his opponent and the laugher clanged again in his voice.

Monastrio blinked and swirled, trying to locate his weapon, but the peak of the stranger's sword pressed to his throat kept him in place.

"Go to the _cuartel_. And make no sound," ordered the masked bandit and this time his voice was not amused only threatening.

Monastario clenched his teeth and slowly limped in the direction of the _cuartel's_ gate, all of his senses concentrated on the cold touch of steel on his neck.

No, he didn't try to make a sound. In fact, he was rather relieved that they met no one on their way. Though the fear for his life made the cold drops of sweat appear on his temple, he would rather die than let anyone see him being led on the peak of the sword… like the helpless sheep.

Oh, damn, Torres. As soon as they entered the yard, Ignatio Torres jumped at the unusual view and clung to the bars. Monastario could swear that in spite of the darkness he saw the prisoner smile.

_I will kill him, I will just kill him, with my own hands, I will kill them both_, repeated Monastario, his cheeks burning with humiliation.

"Go into the cell," ordered the masked man.

Monastario realised that if the bandit intends to murder him, now is the moment, when no one, except Torres, can see them. Is it where his life will finish, in one of the cells in his own garrison? He imagined the lancers finding his body after they return… suddenly his legs refused to obey and he stopped for a moment just in front of the bars.

The man behind him grabbed the collar of Monastario's uniform and threw him inside the cell. Then he leant into his direction and spoke in a tone that suddenly made Monastario feel very, very cold.

"It is only the beginning. Watch your steps, _Capitán_, watch your hands, because I will be watching you… and if you will try to harm the innocent people for your ambitions... I will be somewhere in shadows waiting for you."

Monastario let out the breath he didn't knew he was keeping. Once he understood that the stranger does not intend to kill him, all the humiliation and fury returned:

"You will regret it," he hissed through clenched teeth. "I swear I will find you, even if you hide yourself under the earth, I will dig you up and make you pay."

"_Capitán_, and I swear to you, that you will not have to dig me up from the earth. We will meet again," laughed the masked man with his wide, a bit ravenous smile, turning the keys in the lock.

Then he ran toward Torres and said something quietly. Monastario heard only Torres' answer.

"No. Thank you, but no. I don't want his vengeance over my family and my land. My friends will help me… to get a fair judgement."

"All right, it is better that way," replied the stranger. "I will be watching over you. And I will find some way… to acquit you in the name of the law."

In the meantime, through the _cuartel's_ ajar gate, slowly throttled a big, black stallion. He stopped at the middle of the yard, sniffed a few times and turned into the direction of Monastario. Then the animal looked at the _commandante_ for a while with his big eyes and suddenly snorted. It really sounded like a chuckle.

"That was rude, Tornado," the masked man reprimanded his mount and jumped on the saddle. The horse reared and the rider, throwing the keys into the pile of straw and hay for horses, bowed into the direction of Monastario with mocking salute.

"Good night, _Capitán_!" he exclaimed merrily and galloped into the darkness behind the gate.

* * *

This time, Sergeant Garcia must have scrupulously covered the whole route the _commandante_ chose for maneuvers, as the hours passed and the lancers didn't return to the cuartel. Monastario paced up and down through the small cell, clenching his fists, listening to the church clock striking one hour after another and, with each sound of the clock, finding new ways of killing the masked bandit.

No, hanging definitely wasn't enough.

After considering all interesting means of execution he heard about in Europe, like tearing with horses or stoning to death, Monastario, searching for some more sophisticated solutions, reached to the deepest resources of the religious knowledge he acquired during some rare church visits. For example, Apostle John was boiled in the copper with hot oil. The Saint survived it, but this… Fox shouldn't.

But where one could find the copper big enough?

About three hours after midnight, Monastario reminded himself about Saint Laurence who was baked alive on the fire grate and started to wonder if something like this could be arranged at the _cuartel's_ yard.

There was also something in the martyrdom of Saint Hippolytus that worked on imagination, but Monastario couldn't recall the details.

Suddenly his considerations were interrupted by the clatter of horses' hoofs – Sergeant Garcia finally returned with lancers.

"_Capitán_?" he asked staring at Monastario as if he saw the ghost. "_Capitán_, what are you doing in the cell?"

"Don't ask stupid questions, _baboso_, only get me out of here!" shouted Monastario, infuriated by the merry chuckles among the lancers. "The keys are somewhere in the straw!"

"But why did you throw the keys into the straw, _Capitán_? With you inside the cell?" startled Garcia not making the slightest move into the direction of the straw pile.

"Find these keys!" yelled Monastario.

The lancers started to brush aside the straw, but without much success, even if Garcia encouraged them with hectic shouts;

"Hurry on, hurry on! All of you, search, don't stay aside! Help the _commandante_!"

Yet, the more lancers burrowed in the pile with their muskets, the more they seem to disturb one another.

"Perhaps I could get you something to eat in the meantime, _Capitán_? Or to drink?" asked shyly Sergeant Garcia. "We may have to wait till dawn, so…"

"Find. These. Keys. Baboso!" gnarled Monastario clenching his hands on the bars.

Ignatio Torres in the cell on the opposite site of the yard sat on the ground hiding his face in the hands.

"I know," suddenly proposed Corporal Reyes. "Maybe we could burn the straw? Then the keys should be easily found in the ashes?"

"Good idea, Corporal!" pleased the sergeant, yet then he hesitated. "But what if the keys melt in the fire? Do you think that the iron would melt, Corporal?"

"I don't know," replied Reyes with sleepy pensiveness. "I have never tried to burn the keys. We can try and see."

"All right," agreed the sergeant. "But providing they melt…" he interrupted and looked at Monastario: "What shall we do if the keys melt, _mí Capitán_?"

"Idiots!" yelled Monastario. "I will hang you the moment I get out!"

"In such case I am not sure if I should hurry with finding the keys," noticed gloomily the sergeant, but obediently moved into the direction of the straw pile.

Suddenly he froze hearing the quiet moan from the adjacent cell.

"It must be Sepulveda," observed Monastario. He forgot about the private till that moment.

Garcia quickly moved to the bars, trying to peek inside.

"He is bound and gagged, but seem to be otherwise unharmed. What happened to him?"

"I don't know, he must have been stunned," replied Monastario obliviously. "Just hurry with those keys, you stupid barrel!"

"Yes, we must see how is he," muttered Garcia, throwing anxious glances into the cell, where Sepulveda was closed.

"Oh. I found the keys," Corporal Reyes suddenly appeared by Garcia's side, handing him the metal ring.

The lancers quickly took care about Sepulveda, who with their help stood up, looking a bit groggily around. Monastario, as soon as he got out, corrected his uniform and took deep breath.

"Lancers, to horses!" he yelled. "We are going for a search!"

_And we won't return until I get this black bastard,_ he thought mounting his white stallion.

* * *

The sun was already high when Pina went to the _cuartel_. Yet, Monastario wasn't there and the _licenciado_ couldn't learn much from the two lancers left on guard. So, he went to the tavern and after an hour he already knew the details of Monastario's night adventure. He couldn't hide a small smile on his lips… The rest of the afternoon he spent between the tavern and his office, watchfully observing the _cuartel_, but only when the shadows on the plaza got quite long, did he see the blue jackets of the lancers arriving at the gate.

Pina quickly ran toward them.

"So, you didn't find him?" he asked Monastario, looking at the soldiers.

The lancers were so tired, that they barely had the strength to take care about their horses. Monastario seemed a bit better, but even he was rather battered, the stains of dust and mud dirtying his usually immaculately white uniform trousers.

"You heard already?" bridled Monastario angrily.

"Everyone did," the _licenciado_ shrugged his shoulders. "Thanks to you."

He looked at his employer maliciously and added shaking his head.

"Bravo, _Capitán_. Bravo. After you have been asking in all haciendas for the masked bandit who calls himself the Fox for the whole day, no one at the pueblo speaks about anything else. Usually the bandits have to work months for such recognition and you gave it to him in one day. Bravo."

Of course the _licenciado_ knew that Monastario's failures are also his misfortune, but some part of him couldn't help enjoying the confusion of the dashing _capitán_.

Monastario must have been in a really bad shape, as he ignored the taunts, only asked impatiently:

"What do the people say?"

"Some think it is the _desperado_ from the mountains, with claim of vengeance against you. However, most of the people say it is the… oh, well, the protector of the poor, defender against your injustice… and so on," stated Pina rather obliviously. He didn't care for bandits, no matter how fancy aliases they chose.

"Any clues, and gossips, who might he be?" urged him Monastario.

"Apart from the opinion that he was sent by Heaven? No." Pina was getting irritated with the subject. "Now listen, _Capitán_, as for Torres' case, Alejandro de la Vega..."

"Forget Torres! Forget de la Vega!" the _commandante_ finally burst out. "These old fools can wait for their turn! I want that man, that black rascal, I want him alive, so that I could…"

"Only that de la Vega was not polite enough to wait patiently until you decide it is his turn," interrupted him Pina. "In the meantime, while you were strolling through the countryside, he gathered the _cabildo_ and they sent an official letter to the governor… saying that they fear for Ignatio Torres' life, as he is your private enemy and you arrested him without a reason… Don Alejandro came to inform you about it, but as you were not present, he talked to me."

"Alejandro knows what happened tonight at the _cuartel_?" asked Monastario absently.

"He didn't in the morning, but as his son has been sitting in the tavern since siesta, he will surely bring him all the gossips. Anyway, does it matter? Did you understand what happened?" Pina almost jumped with irritation. "Don Augustin already rode to Monterey. Now you do need strong evidence if you still want to dispose of Torres. In my opinion, not one of these hot headed fools would get into such… neat idea, so I guess that it was that…"

"Don Augustin?" Monastario finally looked at the _licenciado_ with some attention, "I will arrest him before he reaches the King's Road."

"You cannot arrest everyone," Pina shrugged his shoulders again. "Besides, I am afraid he had already reached it and I see that your lancers are in no condition to catch up with him."

The _licenciado_ looked at the lancers again – it was hard to say who was more tired; they or their horses. Monastario for a moment seemed a bit unsure, but then he only waved his hand dismissively in the air.

"No matter. We will find some way to hang him in the name of the law," he stated with serenity that Pina definitely didn't like, especially because the _commandante_ used the plural form.

A moment later, however, Monastario's face darkened and his eyes shined with rancour unusual even by him:

"And as for that damned disguiser, I will get him, I will kill him and he will rot under the graveyard's wall!" the _commandante_ breathed quickly for a moment and added gloomily: "And I will get that horse of his too."

Pina stared at him for a moment.

"Could you just… calm yourself?" he asked quietly.

To his surprise, Monastario just nodded.

"I will deal with him in a few days. He is just a bandit. One more bandit, nothing else," he repeated much calmer. "Only that," he confided to Pina after a moment of consideration and hung his voice for so long, that the _licenciado_ urged him:

"Only what?"

"He has a hideous smile," finished heavily Monastario.

* * *

This time Monastario welcomed the tiredness as it let him forget after the night's humiliation. Yet, when he entered his room, he understood he will not be able to sleep. So, the _commandante_ decided to visit the tavern… drink some wine… watch this catchy dancer… and if someone smirks even once looking at him, he will arrest him on the spot and flog tomorrow.

Almost satisfied, Monastario walked to the tavern.

Yet, when he entered the sala, he froze at the door on the unpleasant surprise.

His table – his favourite table was occupied. Or, the more proper description would be - very occupied. At least dozen of guests crowded over him, so that Monastario had to crane his neck to see through the crowd, who was so bold – or so stupid – to take his place.

He noticed the ornate jacket of Alejandro's son, but it was not the young man who drew the attention of the other guests. It was his goofy servant.

The young de la Vega watched with boyish fascination, holding his breath as the others around them, when his servant built a house from the few packs of cards. House? It was a sophisticated construction, with walls, gates, towers, annexes of different size… After the moment Monastario recognised the _cuartel_, portrayed with thorough precision, just as it could be seen from the tavern's widows.

The construction was almost finished; there was only one card, a joker, left on the table.

The plump servant pointed to his master to do the honour of finalising the work. The young man bowed in comic way and took the card, adding it negligently somewhere at the side.

The balance of the construction was disturbed and all the cards, the whole so precisely prepared building, fell on the table in the total mess. The disappointed onlookers sighed and slowly returned to their places. However, though the trick has just failed Alejandro's son and his servant curled with guffaw, as if something very joyous has just happen: the plump cripple with soundless chuckle and the young man with loud, contagious laughter.

"Jester!" muttered angrily Monastario and exited the tavern.


	3. Paperwork

**Paperwork**

Even Don Alejandro was discreet enough not to yell at his son in the middle of the plaza. However, though the two men kept their voices quiet, it was evident from their poses and gestures that they were quarrelling. Finally the older don turned on the spot, mounted his horse and rode away without one glance back. His son looked behind him motionlessly for a long while before he slowly made his traditional route to the tavern.

"The prodigal son returned and was welcomed by his father with great joy. Yet, when few days passed they understood they will never come to terms with each other," stated sententiously Monastario and added with malicious, satisfied glitter in his eyes: "Finally they started to quarrel. Finally."

"And what's so important about it?" Pina shrugged his shoulders. He knew one thing for certain – these rich families at the end always stick together, no matter the internal differences.

"Nothing. But it is always nice to witness," replied Monastario with a smirk and, obviously enjoying the subject, continued: "I asked the trusted man to keep an eye at the hacienda. They quarrel, because the old man wants his son to finally do something. Oh, nothing peculiar," he explained seeing Pina's questioning glance. "Simply something. Anything. I meant, anything except from sleeping, reading books, drinking wine and playing the guitar. But it is clearly beyond the boy's abilities," he smiled widely.

"I heard he also plays the piano quite well," muttered Pina and immediately regretted these words, realising how stupid they sounded.

"Are you as well the enthusiast of music, _Licenciado_?" the _commandante_ looked at him with malice.

"Better tell me, _Capitán_, why did you want to speak with me today? Any progress with catching your mysterious masker?" retorted Pina, with satisfaction noticing how the smile disappears from Monastario's face. "Or maybe you found the way to solve Torres' problem? You cannot keep him in the cell forever."

"As the matter of fact I found it," replied slowly Monastario. "And that is exactly what I want to discuss with you. Let's go to your office."

"Why do we meet here, not in the _cuartel?"_ asked Pina opening the doors. Usually, when the _commandante_ wanted to speak with him, he just sent some soldier for him. This time, Monastario not only searched for Pina by himself, but also when they met at the plaza, he headed for the _licenciado's_ office.

"I am not sure if I may trust all the lancers," replied Monastario simply. "This… Zorro must have learnt about my last plan somehow. Maybe he has some secret supporters at the _cuartel_?"

Pina rolled discreetly his eyes. It is been two days since that night when the _commandante _met the black clad bandit on his way. Yet, instead of calming himself and looking at the incident from reasonable perspective, Monastario still seemed to suspect the dark figure in each shadow.

"Don't let this man to distract you," the _licenciado_ warned his superior. "These bandits are always finally caught, sooner or later," Pina smirked with a shadow of superiority. He always had little respect for all the dashing desperados that fired the imagination of the people… Maybe he himself was no more than a scribbler… but he was a clever scribbler. And he saw many executions of the most daring men_. _"Don't forget who can cause us the real trouble – men like Torres or de la Vega," he added warningly.

"I am not forgetting anything," Monastario shrugged his shoulders with his usual smug confidence. "Now listen - _Coronel_ Briones will be visiting Los Angeles tonight."

"Inspection?" asked Pina anxiously.

"No, no," Monastario calmed him. "He is just returning to Monterey from San Diego, where he supervised the fortifications under new cannons. He is going to spend only one night here and he sent me the note in advance to… well, to be sure that he will have a suitable accommodation."

Pina relaxed. True, he heard dozens of merry stories about Briones' feasts and drunks. Surely he expected the _commandante_ of each pueblo he passed through to give him a proper welcome.

Monastario continued, the sly sparks slowly lighting in his eyes.

"Of course I will organize for him the suitable – the most suitable – reception. There will be a lavish table, a lot of wine… everything our _coronel_ appreciates in life. And in the meantime I will ask him for a small favour – confirmation of a few of my verdicts. After all, isn't he my superior? I can always ask him for judgement, if I want to make sure that there will be no suspicions concerning my objectivity. You know, for the benefits of mutual relations with the _cabildo_," finished Monastario, the sparks turning into the wide smile.

Pina for a moment considered cautiously his words and… the more he thought about this plan, the more he liked it.

It was simple, safe and legal.

"That's… brilliant!" he said sincerely with the same smile as this on the face of his superior.

Monastario nodded with the content expression.

"Once he signs the verdict – it is done. No matter what Don Augustin tells in Monterey, I will be above any suspicions. You know that Briones is the governor's right hand."

"Drinking buddy would be better expression."

"It is one and the same," Monastario obliviously waved his hand. "The governor will stand for any of his decisions. Of course we won't bore the _Coronel_ with the details," the _commandante_ turned to Pina with knowing smile. "Prepare the verdicts, so that he wouldn't have to do anything more but put his signature. You know… sumptuous supper… good wine… who would have the head for reading some dusty papers?"

The _licenciado_ nodded, but then hesitated.

"And what if he realises on the next day that you persuaded him to… acting too hastily? That you manipulated him?..."

"On the next day it will be too late," laughed loudly Monastario. "On the next day Torres will be already after his last walk… to the gallows. Do you think that Briones will admit that he sent the man to death because he was drunk? No, once it is done, he will have no other options than to announce he supported my decision. Prepare the papers."

"So for Torres?..." asked quietly Pina. Monastario's reasoning was flawless and yet…

"Charges of treason and death sentence," replied firmly Monastario.

All right. All right. Pina will only have to prepare the documents; it will be just like an exercise during the studies…The responsibility goes to the man who accepts the verdict, not to the one who prepares it. The responsibility, the guilt… What guilt?

_It is not my fault that this Briones is a drunkard!_ Pina bridled quietly and nodded in agreement.

* * *

After exiting the _licenciado's_ office, Monastario stopped for a while and looked at the crowded plaza. No, he wasn't forgetting anything, but his thoughts instantly returned to the impudent masker.

Was he now here, at the plaza so vibrant with life? Was he one of the vaqueros, making their businesses amidst the wooden stalls, one of _haciendados_ strolling with the ladies in the shadow of the church? Or, the most probably, the vagabond, the swashbuckler – so many of them always circled near the tavern, searching for adventures…

He could be anyone. Even one of the lancers.

Suddenly, the usually so familiar pueblo appeared in Monastario's eyes mysterious and hostile.

How could it happen? The _commandante_ knew Los Angeles and its citizens so well. He had spies, paid generously for all the gossips, controlled all the meeting, intercepted the post… If someone uttered one word against him, Monastario knew it in a minute.

How could he not notice the man of such bravery and skills?

Monastario shook his head with discontent. Bravery and skills? Was he now complimenting the bandit? That masked rascal simply had some luck, that's all.

He slowly walked toward the _cuartel_. Near the tavern he stopped for a while, admiring the horse of the young de la Vega. It was such a pretty animal – a bit too meek for Monastario's liking, he preferred more spirited mounts – but still splendid. The _commandante_ patted the horse's neck and once again looked around.

'I will be watching you' said _el Zorro_. Was it possible, that he was here right now, observing Monastario? The _commandante_ tried to recall the silhouette of the masked man and compare it to the people around him – but it was useless. The black attire fulfilled its role, Monastario couldn't recall anything peculiar from the posture of the bandit – but the blackness. He seemed to be tall, but how tall? Like this man in the weary coat leaning over the well right now – or his companion, one or two inches taller? He was also slim, but…

_It is useless, I will never recognize him without a mask, _admitted Monastario, rubbing the nose of the de la Vega's horse. The animal reluctantly shook his head, to avoid the caress, so the _commandante_ moved aside, his thoughts still occupied with the black bandit. _Besides, I am just silly. He would never come to the pueblo. All these bandits always have their hidings in the mountains that they leave only to attack._

All these bandits… Pina said that all these bandits are finally caught, sooner or later and it was true. Monastario heard about – or even helped to hunt – so many _desperados_ who kept themselves for something better that the common robbers, as they seemed to live by some code of honor…

Like el Pincho, called that way from his famous rapier with silver hilt or, el Cuchillo, or Silverstra brothers - the arsonists who extorted ransom from terrorized rancheros in the crimson bandanas hiding their faces. There was even one woman amidst them, known as Angelita. Despite that name, what her band did to their victims made Monastario shiver with disgust. When she was hanged in Capistrano, the crowd witnessed the execution in dark silence, without one outcry of protest or compassion, though she was a woman, a young and beautiful one.

Monastario smiled, finding great comfort in the list of the names he recalled… as it was also the list of the executions.

True, el Cuchillo so far fooled the guards of the law, yet he moved to Mexico, and in Mexico they never knew how to do the things right… As for Silvestra brothers, they were executed a few months ago, and _Capitán_ Zambrano from San Diego displayed some sense of fantasy, decorating the gallows with their crimson bandanas.

_I could do the same with that black mask, _thought dreamy Monastario.

And el Pincho, he was probably the most daring of all them… so daring that he got some recognition among the peasants that helped him remain unpunished for a very long time. Yet, he fell in love in the _haciendado's_ daughter. To the common indignation and her family despair, the girl requited his feelings and for a few months they lived happily in the mountains… until el Pincho became smitten with the fiery tavern maid from Pasadena. His betrayed lover denounced him to the lancers… and now the dashing _bandido_ was no more than a handful of dust.

_And the same will meet the Fox,_ swore silently Monastario.

And yet…

Monastario's intuition kept whispering that he came across quite a different man than el Cuchillo, the Silverstra brothers… or even el Pincho.

Monastrio's intuition kept reminding him about two unsettling details from that misfortunate night.

'I will find some way to acquit you in the name of the law' said the masked man to Torres. How… unusual and unsettling. What kind of bandit cares for the law? Or 'acquit'! What kind of bandit uses such words?

And something more, absolutely not understandable: why the Fox didn't kill Sepulveda.

After the consideration, Monastario saw many reasons why he was spared by the masked bandit, the most important being that murdering the _commandante_ would bring after him the most relentless chase the army. But Sepulveda? Simple lancer? _El Zorro _took unnecessary risk, simply stunning him and locking him in the cell. If he woke up and managed to warn Monastario while he was crossing the _cuartel's_ yard…

_I don't understand it, _thought Monastario a bit helplessly, furrowing his eyebrows in almost painful confusion.

Tired with the considerations that had been gnawing him from two days, he moved them aside, sighed and strengthened.

No, it was simple. The Fox was a bandit, the bandits live in mountains but they never work alone. He must have had some helpers who would inform him about Monastario's movements. To catch one of them would be the easiest way to get to the Fox himself.

The _commandante_ already ordered the lancers to prepare the wanted posters, they should be ready by now. In each band are the men prone to be tempted by money… and five hundred pesos was the sum beyond imagination for any peon or vaquero.

Monastario with new energy quickly strode toward the _cuartel. _

* * *

The freshly painted wanted posters were drying in the sun at the _cuartel's_ yard, announcing the reward for the information leading to capture – dead or alive – 'the bandit who calls himself el Zorro'. Sergeant Garcia was just kneeling on the ground and finishing the last one, puffing with effort as he carefully moved the brush over the paper.

Corporal Reyes stood behind him and admired his work.

"You are ingenious, Sergeant. These posters are splendid," he stated with wonderment. "I could never do it so well."

"You think so, Corporal? _Gracias_!" the sergeant beamed and moved back a little, looking appraisingly at the posters.

Monastario vaguely reminded himself, that he actually asked Reyes to prepare them… forgetting that the corporal cannot write. Well, apparently he found some way to cope with the task…

"You only could add some drawing," noticed Reyes.

"Drawing? What drawing?" the sergeant frowned in confusion.

"Well, there is usually an image of the wanted man on the posters. I saw it many times," the corporal yawned leaning on his musket. The sergeant measured him with irritated glance:

"Stupid, I can't draw an image of _el Zorro. _No one knows what he looks like."

"Well, you could paint the fox."

"The fox?"

"Yes, the little fox, it would look very nicely. Or at least the head, the small snout," Reyes looked at Garcia pleadingly.

The sergeant crooked his head, looked cautiously at the posters and, obviously taken by inspiration, waved with the brush in the air, as if preparing to make a sketch. Then he hesitated.

"But which fox should I draw? The silver, mountain one? Or the smaller, reddish, from the sierra?"

"I am not sure," Reyes hesitated too. "And which one attacked the _curatel_?"

Monastario moaned.

"Idiots," he said very weakly, but the soldiers immediately stood at attention.

"_Capitán_, the posters are ready as ordered," reported Garcia in his most formal tone. "As soon as the ink dries, we will hang them at the pueblo."

Monastario took deep breath, gathering his patience.

"You may do it later, Sergeant, right now I have some special task for you."

"Si, _Capitán_?" the sergeant straightened obediently though on his face immediately appeared the shadow of anxiety.

"_Coronel_ Briones will be visiting me tonight. I want to offer him a proper treatment. You will go to the inn-keeper and settle the arrangements – to prepare the food and have it delivered at my quarters at the evening," he said, handing Garcia the small pouch.

"We pay?" the sergeant looked at Monastario with eyes round with surprise, hiding the pouch under his sash with admirable dexterity.

"Yes, but everything has to be of the best quality. I don't care how much it will cost, but it must be an excellent meal. And the wine. A lot of the best wine they have. If you do well, Sergeant, you can count on some reward. Maybe I will give you your next payroll in advance," Monastario smiled encouragingly and the sergeant beamed as if he had just got the best order in his life.

"I won't fail you, _Capitán_," he said assuringly and added in the tone of the connoisseur, "But, _Capitán_, if you want to have really good wine, perhaps we should get some bottles from de la Vega hacienda?"

For a second malicious sparks flashed in Monastario's eyes. That was the idea! To use Alejandro's wine at the supper aimed at the doom of his friend! That would be the joke at the account of the proud _haciendado_! Then he reconsidered it and waved his hand with resignation.

"Forget it, Alejandro won't sell me even the vinegar," he muttered.

Yet the concept of gulling Alejandro in such way was so appealing that he didn't want to resign from it easily… and after a moment a new idea flashed in his mind:

"But you know, Sergeant? Maybe his son will agree. Why don't you ask him?"

"Don Diego? Of course he will be glad to help!" exclaimed merrily the sergeant.

"You got on quite friendly terms with each other, huh?" noticed Monastario. "Very well, it will serve us now. He is just in the tavern. Go there, Sergeant, talk to him… tell him how important a guest we will have today, be friendly… Maybe he agrees."

"Of course, _Capitán_. If you allow, I will carry the orders immediately." Garcia straightened in the most professional salute and rushed toward the gate in rather unprofessional ardour.

"May I help him, _Capitán_?..." asked quietly Corporal Reyes throwing pitiful expression in the direction of the tavern.

"Actually, Corporal, you could hang them in the pueblo," Monastario pointed at the wanted posters drying on the ground.

Reyes didn't move.

"If you say that I can do it, _Capitán_," he asked with pensiveness, some hope still visible on his face, "does it mean that I do not have to do it?"

"No," replied shortly Monastario. It was irritating enough, that he has just made Sergeant Garcia the happiest soldier in Southern California.

* * *

Preparing the documents took Pina more time than he expected. Monastario wanted to give more than one verdict to Briones' approval… just to bore him with minor cases and put him off guard. So, Pina had to describe the affairs of a few lancers that got into some brawls in the tavern, the refusal for the _cabildo's_ petition to lower the taxes for the maintenance of the cuartel, the rejection of the complaints of some merchants who claimed not to be paid properly for their supplies to the army… When he finally delivered all the papers to Monastario and returned to his office, the sun was already in the middle of the sky and the time for siesta came.

Pina wiped the sweat from his face, drank some water and laid himself on the couch.

_For me, this case is over, _he thought, closing his eyes. _Now it is up to Monastario. I did what I was asked too… but I didn't do anything wrong. Someone else will decide about the life of this man. Not me._

Somehow the idea that it will be _Coronel_ Briones who signs the verdict calmed him very much. Now it is not so, that Pina and Monastario plotted something unlawful together. If the governor's friend and official confirms the verdict… well, it is lawful, even if cruel. Pity for Torres, but that's just how the life in California is.

Lazily, Pina thought that Monastario must be preparing to his performance right now and pleased that he doesn't have to participate in it. Good, it was all over. Pina closed his eyes, thinking that he was slowly getting tired with the whole affair. No, as the matter of fact he was already very tired. During the last few nights he didn't sleep well, instantly woken up by the fears and nightmares… It will be nice to rest at least... All his thoughts drifted away, as he fell into sleep.

Unfortunately the nightmare that woke him up this time didn't disappear when he opened his eyes.

"I am sorry to interrupt your sleep, _Licenciado_, but I urgently need legal advice," said merrily the man in the black mask sitting in the rather nonchalant pose on the table near Pina's couch. His polite words denied the bare rapier he kept in hand, resting its peek over the _licenciado's_ breast.

Pina for a moment lost his breath. In the moment of panic he abruptly lurched forward, to escape or get some help… The visitor moved his blade back a little – but just a little, no more than it was necessary to prevent the weapon from running through Pina's skin.

"No, no. Don't," he shook his head with reproach.

Pina stiffened, slowly realizing what happened and who sits in front of him.

_Monastario's bandit… the Fox…_ the _licenciado_ thought with despair, looking at the dark silhouette in front of him.

Till this moment, Pina secretly laughed at the impression the masked man made on Monastario, thinking that the _commandante_ overestimated his opponent, lured by the game of the nightly shadows. Now he had to admit, that even in the middle of the day, in so familiar Pina's quarters, the bandit looked… intimidating. As the matter of fact, in this black outfit without one colorful accent he looked like the piece of the night that suddenly appeared in the _licenciado's_ cozy apartment.

Pina swallowed hardly, reminding himself that this bandit is only a man, not some demon sent to haunt him.

"What do you want?" he spat out.

The masked man shifted a little, sitting more comfortably, his cape floating from the table with the quiet rustle as he moved.

"Well, I heard that you are a good lawyer… and what's more, a lawyer who makes the verdicts to order… I am just here to order something." The white teeth of the stranger flashed in the wide smile.

_Monastario was right, it is hideous, _crossed through Pina's mind. He replied so unsurely, that he felt ashamed with the weakness in his voice:

"I am not going to do anything for you."

The masked man didn't reply, only raised gently his hand keeping the blade, rolling slightly the hilt between two fingers. The steel glittered.

Pina had to admit that he hadn't been so scared in his whole life.

He hated weapons, fight and physical force. He never fought, even as a boy. Oh, yes, here he fully agreed with the young de la Vega – the violence was something… distasteful, something that should be banned from the world… And it was something that simply paralyzed him.

The _licenciado _could spin the man's death out of the paragraphs in his books, but right now, facing the sharp blade aimed at him, he felt absolutely helpless.

The Fox must have noticed that all Pina's will to resist melted, as he jumped off the table and ordered sharply, without the trail of his previous smile:

"Go to your desk. And don't worry, if the inspiration fails you. I will tell you what to write."

Pina slowly stood up and looked unsurely around, with the last shadow of fading hope searching for something to rescue him.

"Hurry," hissed the man behind him, pressing the blade to his neck.

Pina shivered closing his eyes for a moment and resignedly sat behind the desk, reaching for the ink and paper.

* * *

Monastario carefully looked through the documents Pina brought him, placing the verdict for Torres in the middle of others. Hopefully Briones will simply sign it, not noticing how the weight of this case differs from the others… Of course the _commandante_ wasn't going to conceal that one of the verdicts concerns the charges against the wealthy landowner… but he wasn't going into the unnecessary details either.

Satisfied, he put the papers into the leather folder and hid it into his desk in the small study adjacent to his office, so that they would be at hand when during the supper the right time comes. Then he quickly went to his quarters. It was already late and Monastario had to prepare himself for welcoming his superior.

When he returned to his office some time later, in the fresh, spotless uniform with all the distinctions, in the room were bustling Sergeant Garcia and the servant of the young de la Vega. Two very promising boxes were placed under the wall, and the mute was wiping the dust from the dark bottles.

"Good evening, _Capitán_!" the sergeant smiled widely handing Monastario the small note – wishes of pleasurable supper from Alejandro's son.

Monastario smiled. This boy was a perfect citizen: meek and polite. If only all the landowners in the neighborhood were like him, how much easier the life of the _commandante_ would be!

Then he noticed that the sergeant's smile is a bit too… cordial. And this smell in the air…

"Do I guess properly that you helped to choose the wine, Sergeant?" he asked with reproach.

"But, _Capitán_… I had to make sure… that everything will be of the best quality," Garcia looked at him with the expression of the hurt innocence.

"And the food?"

"Everything's arranged as ordered," assured him Garcia, returning the pouch with the rest of the money. "As soon as the _coronel_ arrives, the servants will bring the meal."

"Good," nodded Monastario.

He noticed that the servant finished cleaning the bottles and started to polish the glasses he brought from the cupboard. A bit irritated that the mute moves around his office with such ease, Monastario said:

"You don't have to do it, you may leave now," before reminding himself that the man does not hear. So, he pulled his arm pointing at the door, but the mute only smiled to him nodding and continued his work.

Monastario sighed.

"Sergeant, I have no strengths to this man… Get him out of here, because if I see this goofy smile once more, I am not responsible for what I may do…"

"Oh, _Capitán_, but he was so helpful here!" protested Garcia, poking the servant's shoulder.

The mute turned to him, smiled widely and bowed. The sergeant giggled unsurely and… bowed too with the mirrored smile. The servant in response bowed once again, grinning even wider and Garcia…

"Garcia!" yelled Monastario.

"Si, _Capitán_," the sergeant jumped interrupting the exchange of courtesies and gently led the mute out of the room.

Judging from the tender glances he threw at the little man, some of the bottles from the de la Vega hacienda must have made its way straight to the sergeant's room. Monastario snickered with irritation, but right now he had to concentrate on Briones and…

"_Capitán_," Sergeant Garcia peeked once again into the office, "if you are satisfied… You mentioned something about payroll in advance?..."

"I will send it to the inn-keeper to pay part of your debt, Sergeant," replied Monastario maliciously, irritated with the lancer's impudence.

"I have no debt in the tavern," slipped the sergeant.

Monastario raised his eyebrows, eyed Garcia suspiciously and slowly weighed his pouch he was still keeping in the hand.

"But I do not mind receiving my payroll later, _Capitán_," finished Sergeant Garcia hurriedly leaving the room.

* * *

The wine from the de la Vega hacienda was indeed excellent, yet Monastario barely wetted his lips in the glass, only pretending that he is raising one toast after another with his guest. _Coronel_ Briones, however, enjoyed the feast… without any reservations.

"You prepared here a really royal reception, Enrique," he said cordially, patting Monastario's shoulder. "I see you are doing well here… everything in the _cuartel_ and at the pueblo seem to be in perfect order…"

"Gracias, your appreciation means a lot to me, Sir," the _commandante_ bowed with courtesy, but Briones only patted him once again, so strongly, that the stroke almost pushed Monastario into his plate:

"You may call me by name," he stated warmly.

"Gracias, Fermín," replied Monastario, deep in his soul bridling with irritation. He hated when someone patted his shoulder. And he hated to be addressed by name.

"However, you should be careful, Enrique," said Briones, moving nearer the next dish. "You have some strange enemies."

Monastario looked at him questioningly, pouring him more wine. The _coronel_ took deep gulp and explained:

"Before my visit to San Diego, some strange men were asking questions about you. They seemed to be especially interested in any… irregularities in your career."

"Really? But, of course, there aren't any," replied suavely Monastario.

"Of course, and I sent them straight to hell," assured him the _coronel_ a bit too quickly, but then added with a new ardor: "and if I see them once again, I will arrest them on the spot. You are good man, Enrique," he raised his hand to Monasatrio's shoulder once again, so the _commandante_ quickly dodged standing up to fetch new bottles.

"However, you have to be cautious," finished Briones, gladly accepting the new toast.

Monastario was only slightly interested in this story. This could have been anyone, most probably some rancheros, searching for the way to get rid of him. Well, they won't achieve anything. Irregularities in the career meant nothing here, if the officer proved to be effective. However, this conversation gave a suitable introduction to start the _commandante's_ business.

"I am cautious and I do my best to keep the good relations with the civilians in the area… which is not always easy. Sometimes the army has to take… unpopular decisions," he began slowly. When the _coronel_ melancholically nodded, putting on his place the new portion of the smoked ham, Monastario continued: "That is where I would like to ask you for help… Fermín… There are a few cases, in which my verdicts differ with the _cabildo's_ opinion. If you be so kind to accept them, I would avoid any accusations of… not being objective."

"Ha, you want me to take these unpopular decisions so that you could later put the responsibility on me, when the _cabildo_ protests?" exclaimed merrily Briones and Monastario frowned for a moment, but the _coronel_ waved his hand: "Very well, I am not afraid of some… villagers. So, which cases are so difficult? Show me."

"They aren't actually difficult," explained Monastario bringing the folder with documents from the study, "but as one of them involves the member of the _cabildo_…"

"Ah, I hate these civilian idlers…" swore Briones taking the folder.

To Monastario's unpleasant surprise, the _coronel_ started to read the verdicts… However, he put his signature on one document after another. The _commandante_ almost held his breath, watching as Briones signs the pages filled in with Pina's calligraphic writing, putting the accepted documents aside. Was the Torres verdict already on that pile? Monastario craned his neck to see which document Briones is reading now, when the _coronel_ shifted and asked:

"So, this member of the _cabildo_ is this Torres?"

"Si," nodded Monasatrio stiffened.

"Troublemaker," muttered the _coronel_ putting his big signature under the verdict.

Monastario did his best not to gasp with relief. It was done.

Briones finished with the remaining documents and leant himself in the chair, with the refilled goblet in his hand.

"You know, Enrique, if this Torres causes you so much troubles, why don't you call him here and I will announce him the verdict myself? If I understand correctly, he is in the cuartel's cell right now."

"Yes, but it is not necessary. I will cope with him," assured him Monastario. Yet, Briones insisted:

"No, I will gladly do something for you. Bring him here."

* * *

Monastario reluctantly left the room. He couldn't refuse, but it was just… unnecessary. The _coronel_ did what he wanted him to do, now he should just go to sleep… not play the judge. Torres surely will protest, try to explain his situation… What if Briones will sober up and understand what he did?

To make the things worse, under Torres' cell was standing Alejandro de la Vega. What was that impetuous fool was doing here? And where was the sergeant, he should guard the gate… Monastario cursed silently. This evening was getting a bit too difficult to handle.

"I heard you have a special guest today, Monastario," said Alejandro measuring him with the watchful glance as soon as the _commandante_ neared to the cell.

"_Coronel_ Briones from Monterey. And he took the verdict in your case, Senor Torres," replied Monastario as calmly as he could.

"And what is the verdict?" asked Torres. His voice was quiet, but the expression in his eyes when he looked at the _commandante_… Oh, it was the reason enough to hang this man!

"He will announce it to you himself. Come with me," he replied, opening the cell.

"I am going with him," stated firmly de la Vega.

"No."

"You sentenced him without a trial and now you even won't let his friends to hear the verdict with him?" asked Alejandro seriously with a strange tone in his voice. No, it was not anger.

Monastario shivered. Somehow… when Alejandro spoke in such way, he always felt… very strange. Very unsure. As if… well, as if – guilty.

And that was why he hated Alejandro so much.

Monastario bit his lips, trying to forget all unsettling feelings that Alejandro's voice woke in him. On the other hand… why not agree? Briones read the verdict and didn't protest, he was probably so drunk that he didn't care anymore… When Alejandro sees the _coronel_ in such state, he will probably… oh, he will surely make the row… And hadn't the _coronel_ just stated that he hates troublesome civilians? If only Alejandro protests loud enough… who knows, maybe tomorrow Monastario will have two executions at the _cuartel's_ yard?

He smiled in his most unpleasant smile.

"All right. Come," he nodded and led the _haciendados_ to his office.

"Sir… This is Senor Torres… and this is Senor de la Vega who wanted to listen to the verdict too, if you do not mind," Monastario presented the _haciendados_ entering the office.

"Querulous neighbours, ha? You should be ashamed, Senores!" exclaimed Briones, trying to stand from the table. Unsuccessfully.

Ignatio Torres leant himself on the wall, lowering his head with resignation as he understood that his fate has just been decided during the drunk of two officers, but Alejandro de la Vega narrowed his eyes, seething with anger just as Monastario foresaw.

"What… mockery is that?" he hissed pointing at the table stained with wine and the wavering _coronel_.

Despite his will, Monastario felt his cheeks burning. Why did he have to run to such tricks? What kind of word was his, that the decisive man couldn't simply get rid of the people who stood in his way?

Briones didn't notice Alejandro's question only continued, still fighting with the armchair and table blocking his way to stand up:

"You should be ashamed, both of you," he stated loudly. "You trouble the devoted officer in such turbulent times with your petty quarrels… pulling his attention from securing your lands! Instead of helping him… helping the King… you just… you…" he stuttered and fell heavily into the chair, giving up the battle with the stubborn furniture.

Don Alejandro was unfailing. _Coronel_ Briones might be … well, the colonel, governor's friend and one of the most important men in the whole California, but he charged at him without a moment of hesitation.

"_Coronel_, you are in no condition to…" he started violently, but Briones interrupted him raising his hand:

"Senor… de la Vega, and you should be ashamed twice! The man of your blood… of your statue... You should be more conscious of the duties of a patriotic citizen. Now, these… these silly claims of both of you are discharged, and you return calmly home and not bother us with your childish quarrels again! Is that clear?"

Monastario froze and blinked. What?…

"What is he talking about?" Alejandro, who already made two steps in the direction of the table, turned to Monastario furrowing his eyebrows.

The _commandante_ was so confused that he only looked at his enemy and replied helplessly shaking his head:

"I have no idea."

"_Coronel_?..." Alejandro looked at Briones, this time his voice not angry, but watchful.

"Here. And it is final," stated Briones very satisfied, handing him the verdict.

De la Vega started to read. Monastario watched his eyes widening… and suddenly the _haciendado_ choked with something that could be only the outburst of laughter, unsuccessfully masked with cough.

Monastario ripped the page from his hand and began to read it himself. He blinked a few times, wiped his temple and he looked at the page once more. No, it was not an illusion.

There were no charges of treason in the sentence. There was a prolonged and complicated story of the neighbors' feud, starting from the quarrels about the border between the ranchos, then some missing cattle, then offences and scrimmage and… The whole story was too complicated, Monastario couldn't make head and tails of it. His eyes quickly run to the end.

The verdict was that… that it was no concern of the army how Senor Torres and Senor de la Vega solve their conflict. Both _haciendados _were to settle their business alone – or issue the case under the civilian jurisdiction.

What in the hell was it?

De la Vega took the verdict from his hand, hiding it in his pocket. Monastario allowed him, still stupefied. He checked the documents, didn't he? Maybe it was… some misunderstanding, some of Pina's sketches that he accidentally put amidst the pages for Briones?

"No, no, it must be some mistake. Wait here, _por favour_," the _commandante_ said hectically to the _coronel_, who shrugged his shoulders as if saying 'I am not going anywhere!'.

Monastario ran to his study and quickly searched through his desk… Was it possible that he opened the wrong drawer, took the wrong folder… but he could swear he had only one… As he opened the lowest drawer, he froze.

He didn't mistake the folders.

The original verdict calmly lay in the lowest drawer… only that now there was a big, black 'Z' drawn on it.

How impudent can the man be?...

Monastario grinded his teeth and grabbed the page, ready to run to Briones and show him the proof of the deception…. when suddenly he stooped.

Was complaining to the _coronel _for the masked bandit messing with the papers in Monastario's desk, in the middle of his well-protected _cuartel_, really the smartest idea? If someone is not able to guard his quarters, how can he be trusted with the task of guarding the pueblo?

And what a beautiful story it would be for the _coronel_ to tell the governor!

'_Commandante Monastario has made big savings in the cuartel… now he has the bandits to serve as his secretaries!...'_ he almost heard Briones' jovial voice and laughter.

_They wouldn't stop to mock me till the judgment day,_ thought Monastario with desperation_._

Suddenly, the quiet rustle near the doors drew his attention and he raised his eyes… just to see de la Vega, who entered the study and cautiously closed the door behind him.

"That explains a lot," said quietly Alejandro pointing at the page with the big "Z" than Monastario kept.

The _commandante_ threw him a bit unconscious, furious glance.

"So, what are you going to do now, Monastario? Go to your superior and admit that you do not have even that much control over your district to know what kind of documents lay in your own desk? You will be finished if you do it," Alejandro spoke quietly, yet in his voice the mockery fought for the first place with self-confidence.

_I cannot do it and he knows it, _realized Monastario in helpless anger. _The only thing I can do now is to set Torres free…"_

'I will find the way to acquit you in the name of the law' – in the _commandante's_ tormented mind sounded the voice of the masked bandit.

Oh, damn it!

Monastario crumpled the paper he kept, throwing it into the basket and lowered his head, giving up, fighting to suppress the fury he never felt before…

Suddenly, he turned to de la Vega, who witnessed his inner fight and failure.

"One day you will pay me for it, Alejandro," hissed Monastario. "You and that black bastard you recruited."

"I didn't recruit anyone. You simply have more opponents that you thought, Monastario," replied Alejandro with a light chuckle.

His laughter brought into Monastario's mind some unsettling associations, some very unpleasant reminiscences… but he couldn't put his finger on them.

The _commandante_ took a deep breath. _Calm down. Play the game, and wait for another occasion, _he ordered himself and exited the room.

"So, you have found yourself in your papers, Enrique?" asked merrily _Coronel_ Briones.

"Yes, and everything is in perfect order. I am sorry for my earlier behavior, I am afraid I misjudged my tolerance to wine," replied smoothly Monastario.

"Ha, I always say that weak-headed men shouldn't even start the proper feast!" exclaimed the _coronel_ raising the goblet, not noticing the bitterness in his host's voice. "Now, if our troublesome gentlemen accept the verdict, there is no need for them to…"

"Oh, yes, of course we accept," nodded quickly Alejandro.

"We do? But…" surprised, Torres turned to him sharply.

"Yes," Alejandro cut him off, opening the door. "Good bye, _Coronel_, have a nice evening, we won't… trouble you anymore." He turned his head hiding the small smile and pulled his friend out, muttering: "I will explain to you outside."

Monastario looked behind them helplessly clenching his fists, until _Coronel_ Briones pulled his arm.

"Can we continue? Or do you fell unwell after this droplet of wine you drank?" he guffawed.

_As the matter of fact, I do. I do feel very unwell. And if this buffoon touches me once again, coronel or not, I will break his nose, _thought gloomily Monastario returning to the table.

* * *

It was dark and quiet in the cellar; after some time – long time – the silence and stillness of the room calmed Pina to such degree, that he thought he could actually try to free himself.

After one shy attempt of getting the rope out of his wrists, he quickly resigned. As the matter of fact, he wasn't eager to leave the safety of the small, calm chamber. Who knew what was happening outside?

'Just wait here quietly, _Licenciado, _and no harm will come to you,' said the bandit leaving and Pina clung to these words, finding them strangely reassuring. Yes, he will just wait for someone to free him, hoping that till that time the whole affair will be over.

On the second hand, he probably should try to get out and warn Monastario… but who could say what exactly were the plans of the Fox for this evening? What if he was still in the _licenciado's_ office? Or if there was a fight of some kind, or something?

No. It was not Pina's task to fight with bandits. He will just calmly wait, enjoying the fact that he survived, alive and unharmed.

The _licenciado _tried to sit more comfortably and closed his eyes waiting in darkness, too scared and tired to make any reflections on today's events.

When the lock in the door grated and the light of the lantern intruded into his eyes, for a moment he stiffened in panic, fearing that the masked bandit returned for some reason… yet after the moment he heard Monastario's voice:

"So, here you are," said the _commandante_, slowly descending the stairs.

The relief Pina felt lasted very shortly. If Zorro succeeded in spoiling Monastario's plan, the _commandante_ will be furious… and he will surely blame Pina for his part in the failure…

Monastario for a moment stood motionlessly with the lantern in his hand, until he freed Pina from the bounds and gag.

"It was the Fox," said Pina quickly, crumbling to his feet.

"I know," replied Monastario dryly and exited the cellar.

The _licenciado _followed him clumsily, trying to suppress the quivering of his legs.

"What happened outside?"

"You know what you wrote so you may guess what happened," stated Monastario in the same tone as before.

The reproaches, of course. Pina sighed, sat behind his desk and poured himself some brandy, preparing for the difficult conversation. _He could at least ask if I am fine, _he thought with bitterness.

Well, it would be definitely too much to expect compassion from Monastario. It was good enough that he so far didn't start yelling… as a matter of fact the _commandante_ was strangely calm.

"The Fox changed the verdicts, you didn't check them and the _Coronel_ signed… the wrong one?" Pina asked quietly.

"I did check them," Monastario only shrugged his shoulders, "but too early. And yes, Briones signed the wrong one."

"And?..." Pina didn't dare to look at his superior. "What did you do?"

"And what could I do?" finally there was some strangled anger in Monastario's tone. "I had to pretend everything is fine, say goodbye to Torres and continue the supper with this glutton, as if nothing happened."

"I am sorry," muttered Pina with his gaze fixed in the floor.

"Oh, really? I can't see any clues indicating that you put up a good fight here, _Licenciado_," smirked Monastario looking around the room and before Pina managed to protest, turned to him, adding:

"If this paper hadn't been in your handwriting… I would have probably noticed it before Briones started to read it. If you weren't so obliging to this bandit, I might not have fallen into his trap!"

"I told you I am sorry! I could do nothing, he kept the blade on my neck!" exclaimed Pina with outrage.

"Really?" repeated only Monastario with the same ironic smirk.

Pina looked at him surprised. He knew how unpredictable Monastario could be when he searched for someone to wreck out his frustration, but this... this was something more that his usual tell-offs.

The _licenciado _started to repeat his excuses but Monastario silenced him raising his hand.

"You know, Tomás," he started casually and yet Pina felt the cold creeps, hearing his tone, "When this… catastrophe happened and I sat with Briones dreaming about getting rid of his company… after a while it occurred to me that if the false verdict was in your handwriting, it meant that the Fox must have paid you a visit and forced you to write it… And that he might have killed you after that. I even felt concerned about you," Monastario shook mockingly his head and finished looking straight into Pina's eyes: "And then I started to wonder whether perhaps… he didn't have to force you to anything."

At first the _licenciado_ couldn't understand the meaning of these words.

"What… what are you saying?" was everything he managed to utter.

"That perhaps you helped him out of your own free will, Tomás. Maybe even it was all your idea," explained Monastario very, very politely.

Pina finally realized that it not the calm that makes Monastario behave with such restraint… but that he is tensed with rage.

"You are saying that I am working with the Fox?" Pina whispered desperately trying to gather his thoughts.

"Or that he is working with you," précised Monastario. He moved closer and Pina unwittingly stood up, trying to face his superior, as he continued: "Admit, _licenciado_, doesn't it look a bit strange? You go for your trip to Santa Barbara, bring me some vague news about strange people talking to you… and then each plan we make together turns into failure."

"It was not me, it was this Zorro…" Pina started hectically, but Monastario spoke further as if he didn't hear him.

"Now you helped this bandit so eagerly, claiming to be forced… And I find you here, indeed bound and gagged, but so… politely that there is not even one bruise on your skin. Really, _licenciado_, I start to believe that I took your loyalty too much for granted," the _commandante_ finished and suddenly Pina realised that right now he is much closer to death then he was during the visit of the masked bandit.

"I didn't betray you, I swear," he said quietly and, though fear paralysed him, tried to keep Monastario's sight. "I don't know who the Fox is and I don't know how he learnt about our plan. I swear."

For a moment they stood in silence that prolonged, making the _licenciado _painfully aware of the ticking of the clock. Monastario was making his decision now… and each second could be Pina's last one.

Finally the _commandante_ stepped back a little and the tension on his face faded a little.

"All right. I believe you… for now," he nodded and turned back to leave the room without one more word.

_He is not convinced, _thought Pina with despair. He had the feeling of the ground sliding from his feet. He couldn't afford losing Monastario's support, without him, he would be left alone in the town where everyone… hated him.

And besides… well, calling Monastario a friend would be far, far too much – yet he was the closest man to the friend Pina had here. And right now, he just… he felt so… he needed…

"Please, can't you stay for a moment? We should talk," he called behind Monastario nervously.

"If you are scared to be left alone, I can send some lancers to guard you," replied Monastario in a tone that added some double meaning to his last words.

Pina ignored his threat. He wasn't feeling scared… well, not only scared. He was simply feeling awful.

"No, I meant that… we should talk, discuss what to do next and…"

Monastrio turned to him and seeing the coldness in his eyes Pina understood that if he wanted to talk with some understanding soul to regain his confidence… he couldn't have chosen worse.

"Even if you helped this bandit only out of your cowardice, if I stay with you any longer, I'll simply rip you apart into pieces," hissed Monastario and left the room, giving the _licenciado_ alone to his gloomy thoughts.

* * *

Monastario exited Pina's office and for a moment he just stood in the cool night's air. The night was beautiful, it could have been such a great evening! Instead…

His attention drew the noises from the tavern, unusually for such late hour lightened and crowded. Judging from the merry laughters, the whole _cabildo_ was just having a very informal meeting, celebrating the Torres' release.

_If Alejandro tells them how that rascal fooled me…_ thought bitterly Monastario and almost moaned. Of course he will tell them! Why shouldn't he?

The commandante felt once again that he is boiling with helpless anger.

No. No. He might admit being defeated… but definitely not being helpless. Instead of pitying himself as the chided boy, he should prepare the plan that will crush this masked bandit and everyone who aided him.

Monastario's first impulse was to go to Pina and start planning the next stroke… but he reminded himself that he shouldn't confide any new plan to Pina… at least not until he proves that the _licenciado _has no hidden agenda.

For the first time in his life Monastario felt… lonesome.

He couldn't trust the lancers. He couldn't trust Pina. His enemy could be anywhere.

"Oh, damn it," suddenly Monastario heard silent curse in the darkness. He turned his head in this direction and noticed Alejandro's son. The young man must have walked too near to the horses' hitching post and in the darkness stepped into some remnants the animals left here. Now he tried to clean the shoe with the end of his walking stick with the expression of disgust of his face.

Yet, when he noticed Monastario, he immediately straightened with polite smile.

"_Buenas noches, Capitán_! Beautiful night, isn't it? I hope that you had a pleasurable supper. Oh, and I wanted to thank you for releasing Don Ignatio. I told my father that you always have the good comprehension of the situation. The only think I do not understand is why this verdict…"

"Not a word more, Senor. Not a word more, or else…" half moaned, half gnarled Monastario and strode toward the _cuartel_, leaving the surprised dandy behind him.

However, as he was reaching the gate, he regretted being so harsh with this freak. After all, instead of celebrating with his father and their friends, he was also wandering through darkness.

After all, he was alone too.


	4. Vultures appear

**Vultures**** appear**

"We are searching for the bandit who calls himself _el Zorro_," recited Monastario for the twentieth time this morning. "Have you seen him? He wears a mask and rides the black horse. Generally, he is all in black."

Two pitch-burners exchanged unsure glances. They must have started their work some time ago and now they all, except for the whites of their eyes, were… pitch black. The men looked at the _commandante_, then once again glanced at themselves and made small step back.

"What I meant was that he wears black clothes," Monastario explained wearily. "Cape, hat, mask and so on. If you happen to see him, or hear anything about him, come immediately to the _cuartel_. There is high reward for his capture." He tried to make a friendly facial expression, but the result only scared the workers even more. They nodded quickly in agreement, yet seeing their frightened glances Monastario knew, they will never come to the _cuartel _freely.

_And what are they so afraid about?_ he muttered irritated. _One time I need their help, everyone only looks at me as if I was going to eat them alive!_

The _commandante_ sighed wondering what to do next. They spent the whole morning searching for the people that might have heard something about the hiding of the Fox. This time they didn't visit the haciendas, only wandered through hills, between the shacks of shepherds, woodcutters, pitch-burners. They even visited some of the Gypsies huts. Yet the dwellers of the wilderness heard about the bandit as much as the _rancheros_… it means nothing. Everywhere they appeared, the only reaction was scared faces and quick denials.

Now the sun was high, the heat was getting hard to bear and the fumes of the pitch – suffocating. The lancers didn't dare to complain, but Monastario felt their pleading gazes, as they tried to cover their faces or catch the flurries of wind bringing some fresh air. Besides, the horses were tired too. Monastario patted the neck of his white mount, now almost greyed from sweat and dust.

"All right, we are coming back!" he shouted and headed for the shortcut through hills that would take them far from the pitch lakes sooner than the highway.

When the first bitterness of failure in his last match with the Fox faded, Monastario decided that the most important thing now was the proper setting of his priorities. It meant that Torres could wait. De la Vega could wait. All the rebellious _haciendados_ in the district could wait. The first and most important thing was getting rid of the masked bandit.

The commandante started the regular hunt by the book – questioning the dwellers of the hills and sierra, the most probable routes of the Fox to choose while setting off for his attacks. So far, the results were less than miserable, but Monastario didn't lose hope. If the black clad masker wasn't the ghost… he must have lived somewhere, mustn't he? And he must have some place to hide his horse…

Suddenly Monastario's mount roared, as the colourful figure appeared amidst the rocks in front of them. The _commandante_ tightened the reins and neared to the men strolling through the hills.

And what was that dandy doing here, in the middle of the rocky, dry hills, all alone – well, not counting for his mute servant? Damn, the _commandante_ kept forgetting to ask the sergeant about his name.

"Buenos dias, Senor! What brings you here?" asked Monastario leaning from the horseback.

"Buenos dias, _Capitán_," de la Vega bowed with courtesy, as if they have just met in some boulevard in Madrid. "Oh, just a walk."

"A walk?" Monastario narrowed his eyes and looked around. True, they were somewhere at the borders of the de la Vega rancho, but still too far from the hacienda to go on foot… and he couldn't see the horses anywhere nearby.

"Yes, you know _Capitán_, recently I have considered returning to painting, so, I went for a walk to find suitable place for some small landscape…" chattered merrily the young man. "My first attempts in that field weren't too successful, but… one should not give up too soon, don't you think, _Capitán_?'

"Certainly," agreed politely Monastario and quickly rushed his mount. Painting! Maybe Pina was… the enthusiast of painting, but definitely not the _commandante_.

Suddenly Monastario halted. When he turned once more to the young man, his voice was full of suspicion:

"I do not know much about the art of painting, but does not one need a canvas and colours to it?"

He watched Alejandro's son cautiously, more and more intrigued by this unexpected meeting and his unusual appearance. No, the young man definitely had no painting utensils with him. Neither hat, jacket or one of his scarfs he used to tie in so fancy knots. As the matter of fact, right now he didn't look foppish at all. And who goes for a walk on such hot day without a hat?

"As for now I want only to choose a suitable place," replied carelessly the young man, unmoved by this examination and, when Monastario kept looking at him, added after a while: "You know, _Capitán_, if I manage to do well with the landscapes, perhaps I will move to human models. Maybe you would like to offer me some time and pose?"

"Pose?" replied unsurely Monastario, totally thrown off balance with than unexpected offer.

"Yes, to a portrait," explained de la Vega patiently. "You know, Capitán, these uniforms are quite picturesque. I don't warrant the results, but…"

Portrait! In the uniform, with the distinctions!… Like _Coronel_ Vasquez in his quarters in Monterey!... Well, that would be something… Monastario's suspicions were washed away by the reveries flattering his pride in the most pleasing way.

"We may talk about it someday," he replied as casually as he could, doing his best to suppress the dreamy smile. Then he looked almost cordially at the young man and, seeing his reddened cheeks and sweaty temple, added with care: "You should be cautious, Senor. At this time of the day the sun here can be quite dangerous."

"I certainly will. Gracias," replied de la Vega smiling and raised the hand to salute the leaving lancers.

* * *

Pina decided that in his situation setting the priorities in the proper order was crucial. Without Monastario's support he had nothing to look for in Los Angeles – and the _licendciado_ didn't want to leave this calm, cozy pueblo. Well, at least it used to be calm and cozy, till this black clad madman chose to interfere…

Anyway, the most important thing now was to convince the _commandante_ about Pina's loyalty, and that could be done only in one way – by revealing the Fox's identity. So, no matter how… disgusting was the idea of messing with bandits in general and with _el Zorro _in particular, Pina decided he has to discover whose face is hidden behind the black mask.

That was why, even if there were several delayed cases Pina could take care of, he barely looked at the direction of his desk and returned to the armchair under the window. All cases and letters could wait. Right now, there was nothing more important than sitting under the window and watching the plaza.

That was how Pina intended to expose the Fox.

Of course he didn't think even once about mounting the horseback and hauling through the hills like some moonstruck idiot. What was the use of chasing the fox in the sierra that was his home?

No, it was much wiser to wait calmly, until the Fox will leave his rocky hiding and come to the pueblo.

And it was certain that he will come. If Zorro was so well informed about everything what was happening in the _cuartel_ – or even in Monastario's quarters – it meant that either he, or someone of his accomplices, must have visited the pueblo quite often. So he will come again, sooner or later, to gather the news…

He will come without the mask, pretending to be one of these kindly, busy people bustling around at the pueblo… one of the sheep as Monastario would call them.

_Yet the fox in the sheep skin is still the fox, _smirked Pina.

His behaviour will betray him. He will look innocent but act suspicious, staying much longer than necessary to take care of the business he will be pretending to do… He will ask questions and observe… He will be too inquisitive and too watchful – and finally Pina will notice him. It was enough to watch and wait.

The clatter of the horses' hoofs filled the plaza and passer-byes quickly jumped aside to avoid trampling, but Pina barely moved. Of course it was Monastario, returning with his lancers – oh, and what a surprise, empty-handed again…

The _licenciado's_ malicious amusement was interrupted by the loud voices and angry curses just under his office. He stood up and leant over the window to see the reason of the quarrel.

Two riders, some newcomers to the pueblo, passed too near the stall with the tanned skins, catching on the counter and almost ruining the construction. The vendor barked at them using the most pictorial insults, not caring neither for the weapons nor the proud faces of the strangers.

Their faces…

Pina froze, leaning further outside to see them more precisely… and burst out of his office.

* * *

Monastario was to ride through the cuartel's gate when the noise on the other side of the plaza drew his attention. He turned and noticed two strangers, exchanging insults with the stall-keeper. Interesting, they looked extremely well-prepared for the long journey… Each of them carried the small arsenal of weapons: apart from swords and pistols behind their belts, they had also rifles fastened to the saddlebags... One, agitated with a quarrel, reached for the coiled whip that hung by his saddle.

_Newcomers and so haughty! _Monastario narrowed his eyes, irritated that someone is proceeding so boldly in his pueblo. He waved for Garcia and pointed him the strangers.

"Sergeant, these two seem to need the lesson of manners… Go and remind them that all newcomers have to report themselves at the _cuartel_ and if they do not do it immediately, they might spend in its walls much longer than they intended. Then question them… thoroughly."

The _commandante_ watched with satisfaction as two arrogant travellers calmed themselves immediately seeing the lancer's uniform. They quickly dismounted and nodded politely during the talk with Garcia.

Monastario smiled looking around. It was good when the people have the proper respect for the army… oh, well, for him. Yet, when his eyes fell on the wanted poster hanging at the _cuartel's_ wall, satisfied expression disappeared from his face and his sight darkened, as he reminded himself that not everyone here treated him with due respect. The end had to be put to it as soon as possible, no matter the costs.

"_Capitán_?" Sergeant Garcia approached him, "these men would like to speak to you. They plan to open some business here and want to ask for your approval."

"What kind of business?" asked obliviously Monastario, still looking at the poster.

"Gunsmith workshop."

"All right. Tell them they may come to my office in a few minutes," nodded the _commandante_ and added: "After that you will change these posters, Sergeant. I am raising the reward for _el Zorro _to one thousand pesos."

"Change the posters? All of them? But, _Capitán_, they didn't hang even one week! It is not so easy to…" stuttered pitifully Garcia, but Monastario only sent him one glance, clearly indicating he is not in the mood to repeat his orders and the sergeant quickly silenced and marched toward the newcomers once again.

The _commandante_ finally managed to tear his eyes from the poster and rushed his horse into the _cuartel's_ yard, when breathless Pina appeared by his side.

"What do you want, Licenciado?" asked coldly Monastario.

"These men," Pina nodded toward the two strangers, "these are the people that talked to me in Santa Barbara."

Monastario leant toward him, for a moment forgetting his grudge to the lawyer.

"Gunsmiths? You got so scared of the gunsmiths?" he asked incredulously.

"If they are the gunsmiths, then Sergeant Garcia is the Fox," snorted Pina.

"Bad joke," Monastario cut him off dryly, yet eyed the strangers once more. Their clothes were very fine, their horses must have cost a small fortune… "But perhaps you are right…" he whispered. "I will talk with them."

"You want me to be present during this conversation?" asked Pina trying to seem casual, yet Monastario could easily notice how tensed he was.

"No, thank you, _Licenciado_," he replied and left.

* * *

"Senor López and Senor Ramírez, respected gunsmiths from San Francisco," Monastario read the credentials the two strangers gave him, with slightly amused smile indicating to them that he believed neither in their names, nor in profession. "Now you decided to move your business to our small pueblo… Before we discuss it, Senores, I want to hear the real aim of your visit here. I know that you spoke with my associate in Santa Barbara."

Monastario came straight to the point, hoping to throw his visitors off balance with the direct attack. Yet, his words seemed to have made little impression. One of them, who at the beginning of the conversation sat quietly aside, didn't even raise his eyes from the floor. The other, who presented himself as Ramírez, kept Monastario's glance unconfused even a little.

"True," he replied calmly. "We wanted to learn about you as much as we could, _Capitán_. We wanted to make sure, whether you are… a right man. And everything we heard seems to indicate, that you are."

The way he smiled after these words made Monastario wonder what exactly did they hear about him.

"A right man? To what?" he asked sharply.

"To join us."

Monastario should feel impatient with the enigmatic answers of the stranger, yet something in the tone in which they were spoken raised rather his curiosity than anger.

"And who are you?"

"We are… we are something you could call a…" his interlocutor hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word – and then López chimed in finishing smoothly:

"A company of friends."

_So cautious… _crossed through the _commandante's_ mind. _They do not boast. They would rather fail than say one word too much. There must be something in it, something more than a simple cheat._

"Who belongs to that company?" he asked slowly.

"That we cannot tell you yet, _Capitán_, but you may be sure we are able to help you achieve everything you long for," the suave reply was to finish the subject of the members of mysterious association, when suddenly López added in a strange tone, tempting and inquiring at the same time.

"And we know what you long for, _Capitán_. Power, isn't it? You are a bold and ambitious man. These are the qualities we appreciate."

Monastario turned to him surprised by the audacity of his words. The man finally raised his head meeting the _commandante's_ sight and continued quietly:

"Don't you feel you are surrounded by people who are far beneath you? Incompetent, lazy, stupid? Your soldiers, your… superiors? You could outdo them all. Haven't you dreamt about the opportunity to show your real qualities?"

These words… oh, how unsettling they were! This man seemed to know and understand all of Monastario's feelings and intentions, the reasons for everything he did, what he intended to do… The _commandante_ noticed clearly that small remark about his superiors. It was as if someone was reading the deepest secrets of his soul.

And that was the first mistake of the two strangers.

Monastario hated the very same idea of someone reading his soul.

"The last time I heard so much compliments was when some old swindler was trying to sell me the moldered saddles. Needless to say, it didn't finish good for him. You'd better be more precise, Senores," he hissed with a strangled anger.

Two men exchanged glances and for the first time their confidence seemed to waver a little.

"Unfortunately, we cannot – not yet. We have to get to know each other better, _Capitán_, before we entrust you with the details."

"Well then, if you are so cautious with defining your offer, don't wonder that I am not very impressed with it," said Monastario standing up, ready to finish the conversation. He wasn't some naïve fool, eager to swallow the hook with no more than few sweet words on it.

Ramírez raised his hand, stopping him.

"But you will be. Time will prove there are the reasons to be impressed with…" he hesitated once more and his companion finished for him again with sly smile:

"Our company."

"All we want now is to stay here to… develop and deepen our cooperation. It will cost you nothing and you will see that it will pay off in the future."

Always when Monastario heard that something will cost him nothing, his watchfulness immediately doubled. These two definitely didn't look like the members of charity association. Maybe they really could help him to advance in his career… but they would certainly want something in return. Was it wise to accept them, not knowing the price for the cooperation?

Monastario hesitated. No, these were not some common cheaters. Did he need in his pueblo mysterious strangers with hidden agenda and unknown connections? Right now he had the almost absolute power here. Did he want to share it?

"And if I refuse?" he asked coldly.

"Then we will return some time later… Only that you will be not one of our friends. You will gain nothing and you might lose a lot," replied the man in front of him, his polite expression suddenly darkened.

"You have chosen the wrong man to threaten," smirked Monastario and headed for the door to call for lancers to throw these men out, when López quickly stood up in front of him:

"My friend used the wrong words. It is not the threat, only the invitation. We need you, _Capitán_, consider our proposal. A wise man does not blindly reject any occasion to achieve his goals," he persuaded hastily.

His humility calmed Monastario a bit. It was true, maybe these two and their friends were the threat, but a wise man knew how to turn the threat into the chance. And Monastario always considered himself a wise man.

Seeing that his word made a desired impression, López handed him a small leather bundle.

"What is it?" asked Monastario taking the object. He couldn't feel through the leather what was inside.

"A sign that lets us recognize each other. Take it, _Capitán_."

Monastario deliberately didn't open the bundle, only carelessly placed it on the shelf. He didn't make his decision yet. He was not going to show these men they managed to catch his interest.

"So, you want to stay here and open some business?" he asked retuning to the previous subject.

"Exactly."

"But the gunsmith workshop? It won't be profitable. The blacksmith takes care about the guns here, he even makes the simpler rifles for natives and peons. And the richer ones prefer to buy their weapon from the foreign traders."

"We need that workshop…" started Ramírez, but his companion interrupted him quickly, sending him reproachful glance:

"Your blacksmith won't be a problem. We have his bill for the loan he took some time ago. He won't be able to repay it, so his forge is ours."

"Oh, so, less troubles for you then," Monastario obliviously shrugged his shoulders.

"Actually, there might be a small problem here we will need your help to deal with," stated slowly López. "The blacksmith claims he doesn't remember signing the bill."

Monastario stood silently for a moment.

"But you have just arrived. You haven't talked with him yet."

He waited for their answer, but the two men simply sat in silence, looking straight at Monastario, not abashed even a little.

"Well, that changes the situation," the _commandante_ said after a while.

"Does it really change it so much, _Capitán_?" asked López with knowing smile. Or rather impudent.

"Oh, yes, it does. You come here bringing some misty promises and when we speak about details the only real thing is the false bill you want me to execute. Isn't it reasonable to start to doubt your story?" replied Monastario with the same expression.

"Perhaps… but wouldn't it be wiser to rely on your intuition?" López raised questioningly his eyebrows.

"My intuition tells me not to trust the people who want present services in exchange for future favours," retorted Monastario.

López sighed and sat more comfortably, as if he was prepared for such turn of the conversation from its beginning. Then he stated with ease indicating great practice in such proposals:

"Let's talk about present favours then, _Capitán_. I believe that the forge pays the taxes for the _cuartel_? I am sure that with proper management these taxes could be raised… to the most satisfying amount."

Monastario smiled widely, at last feeling that the conversation led him to the well-known ground.

"And that is finally the subject we can pursue further," he stated and returned to his desk, ready to start the negotiations.

* * *

_How much longer can it take? _thought Pina impatiently, sending anxious glances in the direction of the _cuartel_, where Monastario talked with the alleged gunsmiths. _What do they want from him?_

The _licenciado_ tried to reason with his own nervousness. Whatever… crooks, blackmailers or swindlers these men were, they have chosen Monastario as their aim. The _commandante_ will get rid of them in the more or less definite way – or enter into business with them, depending on their persuasion and his humour. Theoretically, there was nothing so unusual in this affair. Many of the most peculiar individuals wandered through California trying to find the partner to some fishy deals. These two were just one of them.

Nevertheless, Pina couldn't get rid of the impression that something very important is happening right now. He looked impatiently around but his gaze met nothing more than the blue sunny sky and houses around the plaza decorated with bright flowers in clay pots. The day was hot, the colours sharp, there was no single cloud over the horizon… And still, he shivered with unpleasant feeling as if he sensed some very dark danger hanging over this merry picture. The other people on the plaza were occupied with their daily routine, hurrying with their business, eager to find the hiding from the sun as soon as possible… Pina felt strangely lonely in his gloomy premonitions.

"Buenos dias_, Licenciado!"_ called someone merrily and Pina returned the welcome, bowing to the young de la Vega, who just arrived to the pueblo and was tethering his horse to the hitching post under the tavern. Then the young man looked around as if wondering what to do next and his face beamed as he spotted Sergeant Garcia, who stood under the wall, contemplating the Fox's wanted poster.

Pina observed them obliviously for a moment. De la Vega must have proposed visiting in the tavern, but the sergeant shook his head and pointed at the poster. Then two men engaged in the vivid discussion.

_I wonder how it would be to have nothing to do and nothing to worry about, like this young one, _thought nostalgically Pina. _True, perhaps with time it would get boring, but right now I wouldn't mind a few carefree days…_

"Buenos dias_, Licenciado_," he heard suddenly just behind him the words spoken in the voice much different from the merry greetings of de la Vega. "Could you spare us a moment?"

Pina turned back to face two men who just left the _cuartel_ and wordlessly nodded. Carefree life was out of his reach. Something was happening here and he was just in the middle of it.

"We will come to your office in about half an hour," said one of them. "First we have to settle some business with the blacksmith."

* * *

When Senores Ramírez and López finally left his office, Monastario decided that after such busy day he deserves some rest… preferably in the tavern. He peeked through the widow – it already cooled enough to have a dinner, so the _commandante_ exited slowly the _cuartel_, heading for the inn. Near its wall, just under the wanted poster of _el Zorro,_ he saw Sergeant Garcia chatting with the young de la Vega.

_Already here? Does this youth have nothing else to do than boring himself from one place to another? Probably not, _he stated obliviously. Well, the young one could afford it. Garcia however… had the work to be done.

"Sergeant!" Monastario ordered sharply nearing to them. "I told you to change these posters and you didn't even take off the old ones!"

Abashed, the sergeant looked at his young companion as if seeking support. De la Vega nodded assuringly and Garcia, gathering his courage, stepped forward.

"_Capitán_," he started with hesitation, but then recited quickly. "This Zorro is such dangerous bandit and people are not eager to help us in catching him. I have been wondering whether we shouldn't raise the reward even more… to one thousand and five hundred pesos."

Monastario for a moment stood surprise with the unexpected display of the sergeant's initiative. On the other hand… why not? He wanted the reward to be high enough to tempt even the _haciendados_.

"All right," he nodded. "Just do it still today!"

"I will, _mí_ _Capitán_," replied quickly the lancer and turned to de la Vega with very content expression. The young man bowed to Monastario, simultaneously winking to the Garcia.

"You see, Sergeant," he said quietly, "now you even do not have to take them off the wall. Just bring the paint and brush."

Monastario shook his head. What a strange match these two were! What common subjects they could possibly have, this dull soldier and idle popinjay? Well, it could be worse. The young de la Vega could have turned out to be a man like his father. Instead… he might be weird, but harmless and even funny.

Suddenly, Monastario's glance passed by the Vine Street. He could still spot two dark figures heading for the smithy… Good, the newcomers had to speak with the blacksmith first, before they officially ask the _commandante_ for the eviction. For a moment, Monastario wondered whether he made the right decision.

_I might have just made the pact with the devil, but that does not scares me_, he thought with pensiveness. _I have cheated devils before. The problem is I know neither the subject of this contract, nor the price… I even do not know whom I signed it with…_

_Oh, whatever, _he shrugged his shoulders, shaking off troubling reflections. _Right now, it is only a smithy. I'll still be able to throw them out each moment I find it suitable._

The little commotion near him drew his attention. Sergeant Garcia and Alejandro's son where again standing under the poster, the sergeant now keeping the brush and trying to paint something on it. Yet, his hand wavered a little as he struggled to catch the desirable angle for the stroke.

"It is not that easy when it is hanging on the wall, Don Diego," he complained.

"Let me help you," offered the young man taking the brush and with smooth gesture painted the neat "one" in front of five hundred, that stood at the announcement till that moment..

"Perfect," he commented, admiring the poster with very content expression.

"Now it is exactly as it had to be, one thousand five hundred," he stated merrily and added with ardor, "Come, Sergeant, let's take care about the rest of them."

"Perhaps you could add here some drawing, Don Diego?" pleaded pitifully Corporal Reyes, who suddenly appeared behind their backs.

Monastario shook his head again and quickly retreated to the tavern.

* * *

"It is good to meet you again, _Licenciado_. We were surprised not to see you during our conversation with _Commandante_ Monastario," said politely Senor Ramírez, sitting in front of Pina's desk.

"Welcome, Senores," replied carefully Pina, deciding not to comment on the remark about his absence in Monastario's office. "What brings you here? During our last encounter I got the impression that you are not going to visit Los Angeles so soon."

"Our business is proceeding better than we expected," stated the man enigmatically and Pina understood he won't obtain more precise explanation.

He raised the carafe with wine and when his guests nodded, filled the glasses. Only after handing them, he asked as casually as he could:

"So, are you satisfied with the results of this conversation with the _capitán_?"

Senor Ramírez smirked, raising the glass to his mouth.

"Your _commandante_ is so smug that it makes the simplest talk rather difficult, but…" he hesitated and hanged his voice for a moment.

"But greed is eternal," finished sententiously the second man, smiling in such way that Pina immediately realised Monastario did something very stupid.

He swallowed hardly and, not sure how to reply, returned to his desk. The silence prolonged and the _licenciado_ felt more and more unsure with each second. The man who introduced himself as Ramírez simply drank the wine and looked through the window, but the second one didn't tear his eyes from Pina, evidently enjoying his confusion.

Finally, he leant to the _licenciado_ and said quietly:

"Why don't you tell us something about this lovely pueblo?"

Pina knew the life well enough to immediately recognise behind this simple question a very complex proposition.

What shall he do? Theoretically, there was nothing directly… disloyal to Monastario in talking with these men from time to time… sharing some news with them… exchanging opinions…

Of course he knew precisely, it would be very, very disloyal.

So, Pina hesitated. He feared Monastario. And he admired him. But…

_I am sorry, Enrique, but you put me in the position, where I desperately need friends…_ he thought bitterly and replied simply, just as it was expected:

"What are you interested in?"

"The pueblo. Its citizens. Your _commandante_. We heard that not everyone approves of the… changes the _capitán_ introduced since he took command."

"True. There are some who oppose him. If they are powerful and intelligent they can cause troubles… Like Torres, de la Vega, Esperón, Castrejana… Especially de la Vega, he is…" Pina wanted to say 'the lider', but stopped, not sure what consequences his words may have.

"Oh, yes, we already heard about Senor de la Vega…" nodded López with an indulgent smile. "Your _commandante_ chose the wrong approach. Men like de la Vega are very difficult to destroy. On the other hand, if properly controlled, they can turn out to be very useful."

"Well, I wish you luck with controlling him," muttered Pina ironically. Then however he froze, surprised by the sudden silence an knowing smiles of his guests.

"You have planned something?" he asked slowly.

López waved evasively his hand in the air.

"Let's just say that certain arrangements have already been made."

Pina furrowed his eyebrows. This conversation was getting more and more unsettling. He was sure that the deal the strangers wanted to make involved only Monastario… but now it seemed that it concerned the whole pueblo. The _licenciado_ felt the cold chill crawling down his spine.

"I have never asked you about your intentions here but…" he started hesitantly, yet López interrupted him before he managed to formulate the question.

"And that is what we really appreciate. That you didn't ask. Let's continue this way."

Pina gave up. He was right, something was happening here and it was very bad. Now he had to concentrate on surviving it.

That meant he had to prove useful.

He walked through the room and when he turned to his guests, he was fully composed:

"There is something else you might be interested in, something that Monastario definitely didn't tell you about," he started with consideration. "Have you seen the wanted posters in the pueblo?... Let me tell you about the problems our _capitán_ has with the man who calls himself _el Zorro…_"

* * *

When his new friends offered Pina a joint diner in the tavern after their conversation finished, he agreed. If they by accident meet Monasatrio… it will be even better. Perhaps the _commandante_ will realize that the _licenciado_ can still be a useful ally.

As soon as they left his office, Pina heard merry laughters behind their back: young de la Vega and Sergeant Garcia in the exquisite moods were heading in the same direction. They must have been returning from some peculiar escapade, as the sergeant kept the bucket with black paint and his uniform, hands and face looked as if he did his best to take a bath in it. De la Vega doggedly fought with one, hardly visible stain on his fair gloves.

When they neared to Pina and his companions, the young man looked curiously at the two strangers and then directed questioning glance at the sergeant. The fat man nodded. _Of course the people already started to gossip, _thought Pina with slight discontent.

"We kept running across ourselves today, _Licenciado_," stated merrily de la Vega. "If you are also heading for the tavern, why don't we have a drink together? Of course with your guests," he smiled to the gunsmiths.

"With pleasure," replied politely López. "We would gladly like to start getting to know the citizens of this pueblo."

"Are you planning to stay here longer, Senores?" asked the young man, still struggling with the stubborn stain.

Before newcomers managed to give the answer, quick steps sounded behind them and they heard angry voice of the _alcalde_:

"Senores! Are you the men intending to take over the forge?"

Pina stiffened. So, that was the business they had with the blacksmith. What was this all about?…

"True. We are going to take it as the repayment of debt your blacksmith has incurred by us."

"Paquito?" asked disbelievingly de la Vega, his merry smile suddenly gone.

"If that is how you call him," Ramírez nodded obliviously. "Francisco Pena, he borrowed the money from us and didn't return them, so…"

"He says it is not true! He says he never borrowed any money from anyone!" shouted the _alcalde_.

"Is it so unexpected that he disclaims his obligations?" replied Ramírez, unmoved by the irritation of the old man.

"Paquito would never lie!" exclaimed Garcia with naïve surprise.

Ramírez smirked ironically, but de la Vega supported the sergeant with the most serious expression.

"Yes, it is not possible. We know Paquito very well, his wife was brought up at our hacienda. He never needed to borrow money."

He stated it so gravely that suddenly everyone, including the _alcalde_, silenced. Pina wriggled anxiously realizing that the quarrel has just advanced on the more serious level.

Ramírez stepped in front of de la Vega.

"Are you saying that we are liars, Senor?" he asked with unpleasant glitter in his eyes.

"I am only saying that this bill cannot be authentic."

"And I am saying that it is," drawled slowly Ramírez.

"So, you have just answered the question you asked me a moment before," the young man shrugged his shoulders.

When the meaning of these words got to Ramírez, the man reddened with anger:

"Now, Senor," he moved scornful glance over de la Vega, "you should be more careful with your words if the sharpest thing you have with you is your tongue. Or am I mistaken and you would care to support your words with some action?" Ramírez smiled unpleasantly, ignoring the calming gesture of his companion.

"So, you would like to prove the authenticity of your bill with the piece of steel? How peculiar, I thought it should rather depend on the signature put on it," noticed ironically de la Vega.

"Now that's too much," gnarled Ramírez moving toward the young man, when the big figure of Sergeant Garcia blocked his way:

"Slowly, Senor! Calm yourself and don't try to threaten Don Diego in such way! Or in any other way." He added after moment of pensiveness and finished fiercely, charging at Ramírez with his prominent belly: "Is that clear?"

The paint in the bucket the sergeant kept bubbled menacingly and Ramírez quickly stepped back.

_Like the brood hen defending the chicken!_ Pina looked at the scene not believing his eyes, both amused and surprised.. He always saw the sergeant only as a fat idiot that Monastario pushed around, such demonstration of courage by him was more than unexpected… Judging from de la Vega's widely opened eyes, the young man was equally startled.

Ramírez turned to the sergeant obviously calculating his chances against the bucket, yet, before he did anything, López grabbed his arm:

"Leave the lancer," he hissed.

"Or what?" bridled his companion with fury in his eyes.

"What's happening here?" sounded sharp voice behind them. Seeing Monastario, both men immediately calmed, but the _alcalde_ stepped forward, agitated:

"_Capitán_, have you heard that these men claim to have some debt of the blacksmith? It is some cheat, Paquito denies it."

"I have heard about it and I see no reason not to believe them. They have the bill, if the blacksmith cannot repay it, they can take over the smithy. That's all," stated coldly Monastario.

"You want to take over a smithy, Senores?" chimed in de la Vega, as if unaware that he just luckily escaped from very perilous situation. "And what do you intend to do with your pawn? The men with taste to such fine gloves as yours might not enjoy working over the anvil."

"Are you still trying to offend us, Senor?" hissed Ramírez, darkening afresh with ager.

"By saying that you have fine gloves?" the young man crooked innocently his head.

"Oh, I see you will soon find yourself in worse troubles than you can actually handle," Ramírez grinded his teeth.

This time Monastario stepped in front of him, waving his hand dismissively:

"Don't get so agitated. Senor de la Vega was only asking… only trying… Well, I am not sure what he was trying to do but it doesn't matter. The case is clear and there is no use in discussing it further in the middle of the plaza."

"Nothing is clear!" interrupted him the _alcalde_. "You are forgetting about the blacksmith, _Capitán_. We are not going to leave Paquito without our help."

"You have no right to deny Senores Ramírez and López their legitimate demands."

"But I have the right to examine them more precisely. We know Paquito from many years and this case is more than suspicious. He deserves that we at least make sure that these demands are really… legitimate."

"All right, so what do you propose?" sighed Monastario bored with the persistence of the old man.

"Let's listen to both sides and consider the arguments. I want that these… senores meet the blacksmith in my presence and repeat their story. That will allow me to give a just verdict."

Pina noticed how the eyes of Monastario and López met for a second. The alleged gunsmith almost imperceptibly shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"So be it then, we can meet this evening at the tavern," stated Monastario and added with malicious smirk: "But you will not be the one to take the decision, _Alcalde_."

The old man took deep breath, but didn't retort, deciding that the meeting was the only concession he could obtain from the _commandante_. So, he only turned to de la Vega and asked seriously:

"Don Diego, will you come too and repeat what you said to us a moment ago about Paquito? Your testimony may be of real importance."

The young man flinched, surprised by the proposition:

"Eh.. me? Tonight?... But… But I have already made other arrangements…" he stuttered clearly abashed, tugging his ear, averting the disappointed sight of the _alcalde_.

Pina shook his head. For a moment during this conversation he had a feeling that de la Vega really cared for the fate of the blacksmith, that he sincerely tried to help him, maybe even deliberately attempted to provoke Ramírez to lose his temper and show real intentions… Well, he was mistaken, giving the boy too much credit. _After all, why should he care for some craftman?_ the _licenciado_ thought bitterly.

"Senor _Alcalde_, I wouldn't be of much use anyway, I was absent so long," the young man excused himself hastily. "But I will pass the information to my father, he will gladly come and give the statement," he finished with relief.

"_Gracias_, Don Diego. So, I will notify Paquito," nodded the old man and walked away.

De la Vega turned then to Garcia:

"I am afraid we will have to postpone our dinner for some other occasion. If you forgive me, Sergeant, I should speak to my father," he said and farewelled the gathered men with a slight bow.

"Oh, if I that fop gets into my way once again…" muttered angrily Ramírez looking menacingly behind the young man, but López cut him off:

"Then you will smile and say 'good morning, Senor'. Haven't you heard his name?" he hissed.

After hearing that, Monastario and Pina involuntarily exchanged glances, for a moment united again in one thought: that the agenda of the two strangers who arrived today to the pueblo may be far beyond the imagination of both the _commandante_ and the _licenciado_.

* * *

When the time of the evening's meeting came, Monastario thought it would be good to take some lancer as an escort underlining his authority. At the yard he saw Garcia, but the sergeant was just in the middle of cleaning his uniform. How he managed to get stained all over, when it was apparently the young de la Vega who exercised his skills with a brush on Zorro's posters, remained the sergeant's secret. As the paunchy soldier in a little greyed underpants and shirt would barely strengthen the solemnity of the _commandante's_ position, Monastario waved for Reyes.

"You go with me," he ordered and a slightly scared corporal followed him.

When they entered the tavern, the sala was already emptied of the guests and the _alcalde_, in companion of Alejandro de la Vega and Cornelio Esperón, waited inside. Near them sat the very nervous blacksmith and on the other end of the table – Senores Ramírez and López, calm and scornfully indifferent.

"As we all know, we are here to decide about the claims concerning the alleged debt of Senor Pena," started the _alcalde_, when Monastario took his place, but Ramírez interrupted him immediately:

"I didn't know that in this pueblo the rightful demands to reclaim one's property can be denied by the debtor's friend."

"I am the _alcalde_ of this pueblo," retorted strongly the old man, "and I have reasons to believe that your demands are unjustified. Senor Pena says he never even saw you, not mentioning taking any loan from you or signing any bill."

"That's true. I don't know these men," added fervently the blacksmith, but Ramírez didn't even look at him.

"It is not unusual that the debtor denies his obligations. Yet, we have his bill," he waved with the piece of paper. Alejandro stood up and reached for the document.

"It is signed with a cross," he noticed.

"It is not unusual too," grinned Ramírez. "You can't write, Senor, can you?" he looked maliciously at the blacksmith and the man admitted gloomily.

"No, I cannot. But I have never signed such bill, with any mark."

"The signature is certified by _Magistrado_ Covas form Monterey," stated obliviously López. Alejandro looked once again at the paper and handed it to the _alcalde_ returning to his place with a lowered head.

"It is," he confirmed. "But still, it doesn't mean that this document is authentic. We all know Paquito since many years, we know him as honest man, and, what's more, as the man who was never in need to borrow such amount of money. Why would he suddenly turn to strangers asking for…"

"A year ago he took the loan from us, that is all that interests me. It is not our business to ask for his reasons, Senor," Ramírez cut him off angrily.

"But it is our business to ask for yours," replied him Alejandro in the same tone, almost rising again from his place.

"Senor de la Vega, you are crossing the line!" said sharply Monastario. "You have the bill, authorized by the official we all know. You have no single reason to doubt it authenticity. Are you going now to object the justice out of your personal sympathies?"

De la Vega pierced him with angry glance:

"I would be more careful with calling for justice on your place, Monastario."

"Exactly. What if the justices hears you?" suddenly sounded the merry voice above them.

Monastario quickly looked in this direction… and froze seeing the familiar black clad silhouette, sitting on the banister at the top of the stairs leading to the guest rooms.

For a moment he felt slightly dizzy. So finally… He dreamt so madly about meeting this man once more to have an occasion to revenge… and here he was! Wearing the same costume, smiling in the same way… It was him and the _commandante_ had finally the second chance to deal with him.

Yet, near the exhilaration, Monastario couldn't help feel a bit of anxiety. He hoped that when he sees the Fox once again, he will look more… casual than Monastario remembered him from their night's battle. That he will finally look just like a man in dark disguise. Less than… some black devil.

And he was there, just as elusive and mysterious as during their first meeting. _Damn, what makes him look so dangerous? _thought desperately Monastario, staring at the black figure.

"I'd like to join the meeting, if you do not mind, Senores," asked the Fox, flashing the most polite smile. And he raised warningly the pistol he kept in the left hand.

Monastario shivered, trying to break from the spell, and looked around. The dons and the blacksmith stared at the bandit with fascination, seeing for the first time in flesh the man they heard so much about. But Ramírez and López… they only exchanged glances, not seeming to be very surprised.

_Oh, yes, they might be in league with him, who knows? _thought Monastario and struggled to concentrate even if his soul yearned to jump on his feet, draw out the sword and run this bandit through…

"One should not come to the council with a weapon in his hand and the mask on his face," said the _alcalde_ to the Fox, but there was no real anger in his voice.

"Forgive me, Senor _Alcalde_," bowed Zorro, "but I need both these things to make you listen to me."

"The bandit will not take part in the decisions made in this pueblo," gnarled Monastario, not able to bear the self-confidence beaming from the masked man.

"We can listen to him if he has something important to say," opposed de la Vega.

"Him? The outlaw? Over my dead body!" hissed Monastario and bridled when Alejandro turned to him with smile suggesting that he wouldn't mind arranging such occasion.

"You know, _Capitán_… catching this man is a military matter, not ours," stated the _alcalde_ calmly. "You proclaimed him a renegade and traitor, yet you never actually gave the reason for it. We have never heard of any crime he committed, don't you agree, Senores?"

"The only thing I can tell about him is that he has a good sense of humor," replied merrily Alejandro, raising his hand to salute the masked man. The Fox grinned, but didn't return this gesture.

Using the moment of this conversation, Monastario silently signed Reyes to get out and call for the lancers. _Even if Zorro shots Reyes, he will be out of bullet then… and I will be able to attack..._ the _commandante_ calculated obliviously.

The corporal soundlessly moved toward the door, yet before he managed to touch the handle, the dagger plunged into the wooden frame a foot from his head. The lancer jumped and sent the Fox the glance full of remorse.

"I am sorry, Corporal," the bandit bowed apologetically. "I have more of such knives with me… so please, just return to your place."

Reyes quickly trotted back to the sala, taking the position much further from the door than before.

"Speak then, Senor Zorro," in the silence sounded a bit shivering voice of the _alcalde_. "Speak what you want to say, but be careful with your knives, if you do not want the pueblo to turn against you."

"I am here to defend its citizens, not to hurt them," assured him seriously the Fox, and Monastario got surprised with the warmth in his voice.

The _alcalde_ nodded and Zorro turned to Ramírez and López, with his usual cocky grin again:

"Now, Senores, I have taken the liberty to search your quarters…" he smirked seeing at their furious glances, "and what surprised me was the custom declaration for the duty you paid for your splendid rifles. No, not its amount, though I admit it was terribly high… It was the date on it that drew my attention. If you paid it, you must have been at Europe in the moment when you claim that you gave the loan to this man. How can you explain it?"

"Are you going to let this bandit to question us, _Capitán_?" snarled Ramírez clenching his fists.

During Zorro's speech Monasatrio cautiously reached to his belt, decided to get the pistol and risk the shot. Now he was almost touching the handle of the weapon… when suddenly he flinched as the dagger landed in the table just in front of him with a loud crash.

"Actually, _Capitán,_ I do not have that many of these knifes with me, so I will soon be forced to finish with warnings," stated the Fox with pensiveness. "Next time it might be the real stroke. Oh, but I believe that I have been careful enough?" he turned merrily to the _alcalde_.

"Even more than necessary," muttered Alejandro under his nose.

Then the bandit looked at Ramírez and López again and repeated softly, but flashing with smile that made the _commandante_ shiver.

"Explain."

"We never said that we gave that loan personally," started reluctantly López. "True, we were at Europe at that time… but we left our business to _Magistrado_ Covas, he has been investing in our name for a long time. It is not forbidden."

"Well, not so long!" chimed in Don Cornelio, seeming very satisfied that he finally can join the conversation. "It is only few months since he took his office. I remember his predecessor very well, he was much more likable. Not so pompous."

Alejandro and the _alcalde_ simultaneously almost jumped, exchanging glances.

"It is true!" gasped de la Vega triumphantly.

"Ha, you agree, Alejandro? Do you remember, how we…" started Don Cornelio, unaware of their agitation, but Alejandro quickly leant over the bill that the _alcalde_ still kept in his hand.

"Oh, how is it we didn't think about it?" muttered Alejandro and looked accusingly at the gunsmiths. "You claim to have given this loan a year ago, so the signature couldn't have been authorized by _Magistrado_ Covas… at least not as the _magistrado_… and still there is such title on this bill."

Everyone froze for a moment, the blacksmith looking at Alejandro with gratitude, the dons at the two gunsmiths with anger, the gunsmith at themselves in confusion and Monastario… at Zorro.

He didn't let the bandit out of his sight for a moment, so he noticed immediately that after Alejandro's words the man flinched with surprise.

"You didn't know about it?" asked _commandante_ slowly. "I bet you heard our conversation from the beginning… and you seem to be so observant… So, you simply didn't know when Covas took his office. New in California, Fox, aren't you?"

Zorro passed the glance at him, unfortunately appearing to be perfectly oblivious to the _commandante's_ remark.

"And you didn't even read that bill. That does not surprise me. What does, is how you, Senores, could make such stupid mistake…" he looked again at the gunsmiths, piercing them with the cautious glance and suddenly nodded with the knowing smile. "Oh, but it was not a mistake! It is not only about the forge, it is also about him!" he exclaimed pointing at Monastario.

Whatever he meant, no one in the sala had an occasion to consider his words, as suddenly López jumped to his feet and in his left hand appeared some dark object. The blow of the shot cut the air and the black figure of the Fox curled. For a moment, Monastario thought that the bandit must have been hit, until he realized that if the bullet crushed the wooden wall of the staircase, it missed its human target. Almost immediately something silver glittered in the air and the next thing the _comamndante_ noticed was López fighting with the dagger nailing his jacket to the wall.

Monastario rushed into action, doing a few things simultaneously. He leaped up from the table, shouting to Reyes: "Get the lancers! Surround the building!" The corporal this time left the room undisturbed, as Zorro was already occupied fighting with Ramírez, who threw himself up the stairs with the naked blade in his hand. Monastario ran toward them, drawing out his weapon in one swift gesture. And still, despite this commotion, some part of his mind noted: _The Fox cannot work with these men. They would never manage to stage such shot and such dodge._

Zorro and Ramírez exchanged the thrusts on the stairs with dizzy speed. The _commandante_ would gladly join the fight, but Ramírez was blocking his way, there was not enough place for Monastario to stand near him or pass by him and attack the Fox from behind. For a moment, he just stood watching the fight, feverously trying to catch the suitable moment to use his blade. And then... suddenly after one of the powerful thrusts the steel jingled in a bit different manner and the Fox's blade snapped just under the hilt, the blade rolling aside with the last glitter. The unexpectedly defenseless bandit jumped back and his opponent followed him quickly with outstretched weapon.

_That's it, _thought Monastario with sting of regret that he will not be the one to kill the masked intruder.

"Alejandro, don't!" he heard behind him the warning shout of the _alcalde_.

"Stay out of this, Senor!" called the Fox in the direction of de la Vega. Before Monastario managed to see what that old fool intended to do, Ramírez, using the moment of the bandit's distraction, lunged forward. The _commandante_ grimaced with regret expecting to see the Fox dead in the second – dead not by his hand – when the black figure dived under the blade and next thing Monastario noticed was Ramírez's body rolling down the stairs just onto him.

The _commandante_ didn't manage to avoid the impact that knocked him down. As he was crumbling from the floor, he noticed only the black cape disappearing in one of his corner rooms.

Almost unconscious with fury that the masked bandit got away once more, Monastario rushed upon him. He burst into the room in a second… and for a moment froze, wondering why it is so empty.

And then he felt sharp pain in his hand, forcing him to drop the blade. The cold edge of the knife pressed his throat.

"Let's talk for a moment. Who are these men?" hissed the Fox behind him, kicking the door to close.

Monastario tried to free himself, but the bandit was still twisting his hand and the only thing the _commandante_ achieved was the piercing pain in his hand. The blade of the knife pressed a little stronger. _Damn, how many of these daggers has he? _cursed silently Monastario. And then he calmed. _Let him talk. It will give the lancers time to surround the building. _

"Who are these men?" repeated Zorro and now the _commandante_ replied, trying to play on time:

"Gunsmiths from San Francisco."

"Very funny. I was asking who they are," now there was a clear menace in the bandit's voice. "They are not some petty swindlers, I must know the reason of their presence here."

"Why? I mean, why do you think I would tell you anything?" laughed Monastario, trying to ignore the pain in his hand. _Very well… I welcome your inquisitiveness Fox. Do not hurry with your questions._

"Can't you see that they wanted to frame you?…" bridled the man behind his back. "This so poorly falsified bill was to be the undeniable proof of your… corruption or incompetence, whatever… Can't you see that, no matter how it sounds, now I am helping you?"

"Go to hell with your help!" muttered Monastario. _And talk. Argue with me. Just a bit longer._

"Who – are – these – men?" repeated the Fox for the third time, accenting each word. "Speak, or…" he pressed the blade even stronger.

"You won't do it," replied Monastario trying to sound more confident than he felt.

_He is not eager to take life, _repeated himself the _commandante_._ He didn't kill me in fight. He won't simply slice my throat now._

_And if he will?_

"Are you really so sure about it?" very unsettling laughter sounded in Zorro's voice and suddenly Monastario, no matter how he wanted to prolong the conversation, couldn't find any suitable reply. The _commandante_ was almost ready to start the story of the mysterious company of friends, when he heard the shouts of the lancers:

"Surround the building! Here, from this side, under the windows!" Garcia's voice sounded in his ears like the most beautiful music.

"This conversation is not finished, _Capitán_," whispered the Fox behind his back and the blade of the knife disappeared from Monastario's throat. Strong push sent the _commandante_ to the other side of the room. When he tried to get on his feet, nursing the aching arm, he saw the bandit exiting the balcony… and then quickly retreating to the room, as the musket salve sounded in the air.

Monastario smirked. Now he got him. Previously this scoundrel managed to catch him by surprise… but that was all. Now his luck was over. The _commandante_ tried to raise his blade, though his had was still pulsing with pain.

The Fox in the meantime quickly looked around the room, then reached for the big candlestick staying on the table, wrapped his cape around it… slowly slid it out of the window… and then energetically threw outside.

The muskets sounded with a furious salve.

"Well, these should be all of them, don't you think, _Capitán_?" the bandit smirked to Monastario. "Now it will take some time to reload."

Having said that, he jumped out into the darkness behind the window.

Monastario followed him furiously with the blade in his hand.

Zorro was wrong. These were not all the muskets. A few bullets cut the air, some of them crushing the wall much too near to Monastario's head. He quickly hid in the room again, catching only the glimpse of the dark silhouette, deftly slipping down the wall to the big dark shadow waiting under it… The horse's hoofs hit the ground and the rider and its mount melted with the darkness of the night.

"Idiots! Follow him!" yelled Monastario to the lancers, jumping to the balcony again.

But, of course, his soldiers surrounded the building on their feet, leaving the horses in the stables.

"To the horses! Hurry!" called Garcia and the lancers rushed toward the _cuartel_.

However, Monastario knew they are running so quickly only to get out of his sight. They had no chances of catching up with the black clad bandit now.

* * *

Monastario slowly crossed the room, with the gloomy sigh realizing how very badly this evening had gone. He met the black bandit for the second time… only to be humiliated by him once again. Humiliated in the most unbearable manner, this time they didn't even cross the blades…

And Monastario's soldiers! This time they were around, armed and warned to catch the bandit… and still this damn Fox got away without the slightest effort, not losing his impudent smirk!

He exited to the staircase and noticed the men gathered below. Corporal Reyes stood with a few lancers in the door and talked with the blacksmith, not sure what to do next. One of soldiers took care of Ramírez, who slowly regained his consciousness after the fall from the stairs. As for López, Alejandro was just helping him to get out the dagger pinning his clothes to the wall, but… the gunsmiths' weapons were taken from them, lying in the far corner behind the dons.

_Oh, true, their cheat came to light… and mostly thanks to this masker as well… _the _commandante_ almost moaned, feeling very tired.

Some shining object on the floor drew his attention and Monastario gathered the remains of Zorro's rapier. He examined them carefully, slowly descending to the sala. Actually, it was not the blade that was broken, only the hand guard, split lengthwise into few parts. Monastario leant closer, realizing that someone must have altered the weapon, fixing the blade in the other hilt than it originally was. Probably that was why it broke so unhappily after the stroke given from the specific angle... The hilt that Zorro used was very simple, had no peculiar markings, no decors, as the weapon that could be bought at any market in the neighborhood. But the blade… Monastario recognized it immediately.

_Toledo steel, _he thought with a smile. _I see we share the taste to weapon, Fox… I wonder how eye-catching it originally was, if you decided to tamper with it. _

Fascinated with the weapon, for a moment the _commandante_ forgot all his worries. After descending to the sala, he looked a bit distracted around and beamed seeing the most needed person in this situation.

"Can you fix it?" he asked the blacksmith, for the first time during this evening turning to the man directly.

The craftsman looked at him surprised, but obediently examined the weapon.

"The blade is not cracked, so yes… I will only have to embed it in the new hilt."

"Good. So do it," nodded Monastario.

"Splendid steel…" muttered de la Vega, throwing curious glance on the blade.

"No matter the steel!" interrupted them the _alcalde_. "What about these cheaters?" he pointed at the gunsmiths.

Monastario hesitated for a moment. If he still tries to support their claims, the _alcalde_ and these rebellious fools will raise hellish rumpus… insist on calling Covas as the witness… he will deny… the whole case will spread through Monterey, it may reaching governors ears… This affair wasn't worth so much fuss.

Besides, who knows, maybe there was a grain of truth in Zorro's words? Maybe these men really made the mistake on the bill on purpose, so that they could later blackmail him? If so...

Monastario turned to López and stated coldly.

"Senores, you have one hour to pack your belongings. Then you will leave the pueblo."

López bridled and neared toward Monastario, ignoring the watchful glances of lancers that gathered around them. For the first time this day his eyes shined with anger and the _commandante_ though that Senor López, even if so quiet and composed, was much more dangerous man than his companion.

"You are making the mistake, _Capitán_," he stated quietly. Then for a moment he struggled to regain control and finished, calmer, but still with menace in his voice: "It is a mistake, however, we understand the circumstances. You will have one more chance… yet remember, it will be the last one."

Monastario kept his glance for a moment and, not bothering to reply, turned to Reyes.

"Corporal, wait here till there are ready… and then escort them out of the pueblo," he ordered obliviously and left.

* * *

When the _commandante_ returned to his quarters, he felt deadly tired, yet still too furious and bitter to go to sleep. He paced through his office, not sure whether he should start writing the reports from today's events, send the lancers to the whole night maneuvers or maybe arrest someone… he sincerely longed for making someone else as miserable as he felt now.

Right now, he even barely had strength to plan the next move against the Fox.

"I hate him," Monastario stated gloomily to himself.

_New in California… _crossed through his mind and he stepped to the cabinet, to take the register of the men who passed by Los Angeles in the last few weeks.

And then his eyes fell on the small leather bundle that lay forgotten on the shelf since his conversation with the gunsmiths… whoever they really were. Forgetting the register he slowly took the bundle and opened it, checking what was inside.

The feather.

The eagle's feather, with some unusual markings cut in it.

Monastario saw the natives, who used to decorate themselves with such feathers, that were told to commemorate the achievements of the warrior wearing them – but he never saw the markings cut in such elaborate way as on the one he kept in his hand.

Was it only a toy, intended to lure the naïve victims… or was it really the sign, bearing some unknown message?

What if he made a mistake? It wasn't difficult to throw two men out of pueblo… but about this mysterious association? For a moment, he couldn't help the wave of anxiety take over him, as he unwillingly turned the feather in his fingers.

Then, however, he shook his head with a smirk. One should ally with the men able to help him, not needing the help themselves. If this… company consisted of such members as these two who paid him the visit today…

_What for do I need more people who cannot cope with one bandit?_ snorted Monastario with irony._ I have two dozens of such in the cuartel! _

So, the _commandante_ neared the feather to the flame of the candle until it began to burn and then threw it into the empty fireplace, where it slowly glowed, turning into dust and casting ruby reflections on Monastario's quarters.


	5. The wager

**The wager**

"José Antonio Figueroa," read Monastario aloud, turning the next page of the heavy volume lying on the tavern's table. "No, I remember him. He has the paunch like the barrel."

"But _Capitán_, just because someone is a little wider it doesn't mean he cannot be a good fighter," protested Sergeant Garcia in a bit aggrieved voice.

"You think so, Sergeant?" Monastario looked at him maliciously. "So let's make a bet. You will go upstairs to the corner room and try to climb down in the same way as Zorro did. If you manage to do it without breaking the balcony, the banister or yourself, I will believe that Figueroa may be the Fox."

"Please, Senor _Commandante_!" moaned the inn-keeper. "I have enough problems with repairs after your fight with the real Zorro!"

Garcia only muttered something under his nose, definitely not eager to climb either up the stairs nor down the wall, so Monastario returned to the register of the travelers who arrived to Los Angeles during last few weeks.

"Antonio Ramos. I cannot recall him."

"I can," nodded the inn-keeper. "He comes to the tavern every day."

"And what does he do? Behaves suspiciously? Asks questions?" eagerly caught Monastario, but the sergeant, who obviously also knew Senor Ramos, only shook his head.

"No. He is escaping," he stated enigmatically, but then raised his head with sudden interest. "_Capitán_, that might be a trait! The man with such spouse as Lupita has every reason to hide himself behind the mask!"

"But he is sixty years old!" gnarled Monastario, having read the records concerning Ramos more precisely.

"Senor _Commandante_, I really should return to my work…" complained the inn-keeper. "The first guests will appear soon. It is market day tomorrow; some salesmen should arrive already today."

"They can wait," Monastario cut him. No one knew so well the citizens of Los Angeles as the inn-keeper. That was why the _commandante_ this morning came to the tavern with his register, to have the inn-keeper and the tavern's servants at hand, when he didn't recall the details of some newcomer.

And he wanted to hear as much details about every name in records. One of them probably was the real name of the Fox.

"Nicolás Moya," the sergeant read the next line. "I don't know him."

"He lives in a small adobe house behind the creek," stated the inn-keeper. "But I do not know him well either."

"Very well. Sergeant, add him to the list of the men to be checked. Today you will visit them and see, whether one of them could be the bandit," ordered Monastario.

"But how can I check it, if I do not know what this bandit looks like?" surprised the sergeant. "I saw no more than a shadow that night!"

"_Baboso_! He is tall and slim, and…" Monastario started and stopped, realizing that he has not much more to say. Besides, the sergeant certainly had his own definition of the slim man. "Oh, just arrest them all and bring to the _cuartel_, so that I could see them," the _commandante_ finished waving his hand.

"All of them?" Garcia measured the list with widely open eyes. "I will never manage to arrest so many people till sundown!"

"Arrest? What new plot have you concocted, Monastario, to torment the people of this pueblo?" the voice of Alejandro de la Vega sounded from the tavern's door. The _commandante_ didn't even look in his direction, only called back mockingly:

"I don't remember that I should report to you, Senor de la Vega!"

"Buenos dias, _Capitán_, Sergeant," Alejandro's son strolled after his father, but he approached Monastario's table with merry smile. "Neat handwriting," he commented casting a glance on the register.

"I have guests, so…" the inn-keeper started to rise, but Monastario only waved for him to remain on his place.

"I will help myself, if you allow," said serenely the young man, reaching for the bottle and mugs. The first one he handed to his father, who with a scowled face sat by the other table. Then, however, he returned to the _commandante_ and his companions. Monastario shook his head decliningly, but the sergeant beamed with gratitude at the mug that appeared in front of him.

Alejandro's son placed himself with the last mug under the wall near Monastario's table, which cost him reproachful glance of his father and irritated of the _commandante_.

"Joaquin Herrera. Herrera? But he is a lancer!" exclaimed irritated Monastario at the next name, forgetting the dandy hanging over him. "What idiot registered the lancer here?"

"I did…" replied shyly Garcia. "You said yourself, _Capitán_, that we should keep records of everyone…"

"Lancers are to be noted in the military register! This is the one for civilians!" foamed Monastario.

"We have two?..." gasped the sergeant startled by the revelation.

"Any problem?" chimed in de la Vega, leaning over Monastario's shoulder to pour the sergeant more wine.

"No, Don Diego, we are only trying to find the Fox," sighed Garcia.

"In the tavern? Well, that is the new approach," commented obliviously the young man, but his father, hearing the sergeant's words, stood up and also neared to them.

"Why do you think that Zorro could be one of these men?" he asked pointing at the register.

"Worried about your masked friend, Senor?" smirked Monastario. "Well, you should be."

"No bandit is our friend, _Capitán_," outraged the young man, as if he just heard the insult to his family's honour. Then, however, he added lightly again: "Though I admit that this one seems quite peculiar. So much fuss around one man, and I didn't even hear that he stole something.'

"He is not a thief, Diego! I told you what he did," Alejandro snorted angrily.

"Yes, but, honestly, I did not entirely understand what was his role in all this… commotion that took place here… apart from the fact that it involved destroying the furniture," the young man rubbed with discontent the hole in the table top, left by Zorro's knife that landed in front of Monastario. Evidently displeased with the unsightly scar marring the wooden surface, the young man wrinkled his nose and, after the moment of consideration, put on it Monastario's ink pot.

"Senor de la Vega," Monastario moved the ink pot to its previous position, irritated by the unpleasant shiver that ran over him as he reminded himself of the moment when the dagger landed just in front of him, "I am trying to work here."

"Yes, Senores, por favor, can we continue?" pleaded the inn-keeper, eager to get back to his work. "The next one is José Vanegas."

Damn, this hole was really quite noticeable. So deep. The _commandante_ didn't pay attention to it earlier, but now his sight ran over and over into its direction. It was such a… humiliating reminder of the moment his life depended only on the bandit's whim.

Monastario shivered once again and quickly moved the ink pot back over the hole.

"Vanegas? No, he is a native. The Fox is a Spaniard," he shook his head, trying to concentrate.

"How do you know, _Capitán_, if he wears the mask?" asked Garcia and Alejandro's son supported him, nodding and turning questioning glance at Monastario.

"By his accent."

"Really? And what accent does he have?" the sergeant inquired curiously.

"None, _baboso_! That is why I am telling he is a Spaniard!"

"All right, but it doesn't mean that he is registered in your record. Why are you checking these names?" now Alejandro chimed in repeating his question.

Monastario sighed, almost ready to throw both son and father out of the tavern. Yet, he forced himself to reply:

"You were here, so you know why I believe he arrived recently. Besides, I have the reasons to suspect he has some acquaintances in Los Angeles from whom he tries to hide his crimes."

"Crimes!" bridled Alejandro, yet his son exclaimed with amazement:

"That's a fascinating deduction, _Capitán_! How did you come to such conclusion?"

Monastario smirked with satisfaction, but the inn-keeper moaned impatiently and pulled the register into his direction.

"So, then it is Juan Bautista Rubio, who is eighty-two years old, and Senor de la Vega is the last one, so I understand we are finished. I was glad to help, Senor _Commandante_," he stated quickly and stood up, disappearing behind the counter.

"Why there is not record of these strange gunsmiths here? I thought everyone should be noted," curious voice of the young de la Vega buzzed over Monastario's ear.

The _commandante_ got confused a little. He put no record of his mysterious guests in official archives, because… well, just in case.

"They arrived and left in the same day, we had not time to get information from them," he replied angry at himself that his answer sounded like an excuse and quickly closed the register.

Alejandro's son, however, still looked at the book with vivid interest.

"Does each presidio in California have too keep such records?"

"Yes, of course," answered Monastario cautiously. Was this boy accusing him of undue surveillance?

"That's good for you, _Capitán_. You will have no problems with getting the lists of newcomers from other districts," the young man stated lightly and seeing surprised Monastario's glance, explained a little confused: "Well, even if your bandit arrived to California recently and has some acquaintances in Los Angeles, he still may live somewhere in the neighborhood, not under your jurisdiction."

Monastario realized with unpleasant surprise that it was possible. Even if someone in Los Angeles knew the alter persona of the Fox, the real, unmasked one, the bandit himself still could live in another district. That meant that Monastario's register might not be enough to identify him…

"I am sure that each _commandante_ in California has such solid records as you, _Capitán_," stated consolingly de la Vega and Monastario's thoughts quickly ran to the other officers in Southern California… and the way they used to deal with such bothersome nuisance as reports and registers.

"Oh, _Dios_, that's useless!" he moaned, for a moment hiding his face in his hands.

In this moment the door crackled, and Monastario raised his head to see one of the lancers entering the sala with some long object wrapped in dark cloth in his hand.

"_Capitán_, the blacksmith came to your office to bring you this," he reported, handing him the item.

Monastario smiled, taking the parcel. He knew what was inside.

"Already done…" he muttered with satisfaction, slowly unwrapping the cloth.

"Father, I think we can return to the hacienda," young de la Vega put away his mug and reached for his father's arm, heading for the door. Alejandro, however, moved him aside and leaned over Monastario, for a moment curiosity taking place of irritation on his face.

For one small second both the _commandante_ and his enemy together admired Fox's blade.

The blacksmith must have been working at it with great devotion. Not only had he embedded the blade in the new hilt, but also precisely polished and cleaned the steel, so that it shined now like pure silver. He even found the suitable black sheath. _Good work. No wonder, he must be grateful that I helped him to keep his forge, _stated Monastario with satisfaction, seeing how much effort the craftsman put into his work.

"Really, exquisite steel, don't you think, Diego?" muttered Alejandro, trying to see it more precisely.

"As the matter of fact, not especially. Steel is steel. Father, why don't we…"

"Oh, come on, Diego. It is exceptional, though I would definitely chose another hand guard for such splendid blade. By the way, do you…"

"Father, let's just return to the hacienda. It has been a busy morning, it would be nice to rest a bit before… before the siesta…" the young man's voice sounded a bit impatient and Monastario couldn't hide the grin.

_Rest before the siesta!_ That was the precise definition of the boy's life. It was delicious to see how confused anger reappeared on the face of the older de la Vega. _I do like this young one. He costs Alejandro much more worries than I would ever been able to cause._

Alejandro must have felt some of Monastario's satisfaction, as he finally headed for the doors, though still grumbling:

"Busy? We haven't spent at the pueblo more than two hours!"

"As you say, Father, but for me this morning has been exhausting enough," muttered the young man opening the door and farewelling the other men with a bow.

When they left, Monastario sighed with relief enjoying the silence and reached once again for the register. In all this commotion he almost forgot the last thing he wanted to check.

He quickly riffled the volume till the last page and found the note referring to Alejandro's son.

"Diego. Diego," he repeated trying to memorize it. They met so often recently that not remembering the boy's name was slowly getting awkward.

Then he raised his head with discontent, when the silence was interrupted by the quiet tune. It was Sergeant Garcia, who in the meantime sat in the corner with the tavern's guitar and started to play some vivid melody, humming under his nose. Well, that one was always ready to enjoy himself!

"What's that strumming, Sergeant? Have you forgotten you are on duty?" the _commandante_ asked him sharply.

"Oh, no, _mí Capitán_, it is just the new song people at the pueblo sing. Very pretty one. It has nice words that go like…" Garcia corrected the hold on the guitar and took deep breath, preparing to sing, when suddenly he choked as if the air was blocked in his lungs. A bit reddened, he muttered quietly: "Eeeh, no matter, _Capitán_. Just the song."

Monastario didn't listen to his mumble, only handed him the list of the men to be checked.

"You complained that you won't manage to get these men till sundown. The sooner you start, the more chances you have to return before supper."

The sergeant's face went long.

"Is that really necessary, _Capitán_? I mean that… Don Diego was right, this bandit didn't steal anything… He did nothing but saving… I meant intruding the council… and it… well, it seemed as if he was right… Of course he wasn't, but it seemed so…" now the sergeant was all red and befuddled, his voice shaking and stuttering, but he continued bravely, even if he didn't dare to raise his eyes from the floor: "Maybe he only tried to help? _Capitán_, some say… that he only cares for simple people… that at least what the others say."

Monastario grinded his teeth and stood up, ready to send the sergeant either to cleaning the stables, or straight to the cell.

Then he sat down.

_He cares for simple people…_

That was true. The Fox did care for people. Torres, blacksmith… even the lancers that stood in his way, Sepulveda and Reyes, he didn't harm them…

_El noble bandido… _he thought with a smirk. _Laudable. Laudable weakness. _

Monastario laughed, moving aside the register. Why did he choose the hard path when the easy one was in his reach? He wasted the whole morning. Why chase the bandit? Let him come to the _commandante_ himself.

"Sergeant, keep that list for later," he said to Garcia so calmly, that the lancer who was expecting his outburst with closed his eyes now opened them widely: "Today you will arrest only one person..." He looked around searching for inspiration and his eyes fell on the rapier. "The blacksmith."

"Paquito? But… Is there something wrong with that weapon?" stuttered the sergeant pointing at the blade. Monastario didn't bother to reply only turned to the tavern's owner:

"Inn-keeper! You will announce that I have arrested the blacksmith under the charges of collusion with the bandit Zorro. And that I will hang him tomorrow, if the Fox won't give himself in before dawn."

* * *

Before leaving his office, Pina for a moment wondered whether he shouldn't reconsider once more the decision he considered the whole night. Then he stated almost obliviously, that he is too tired for it. Sometimes, things surpass you and the wise man knows when to give up, before they will destroy him.

He crossed through the plaza, noticing that the market that was to take place on the next day brought to Los Angeles much more visitors than usual. Well, no wonder, given the circumstances.

People talked. Commented, quarreled, prated. The whole pueblo was buzzing with gossips on one and sole subject: _el Zorro_.

When the _commandante_ out of the sudden started to chase feverously the black clad man no one except for him saw, it has been exciting enough. People discussed it long and thorough, trying to figure out the motives and identity of the masked intruder.

Their opinions were shared. Some believed that the _commandante's_ enemy is the revenger sent by the Holy Virgin, patron of the city, to ease the life of the anguished citizens. However, they have problems with explaining why the Heaven's envoy would appear in black attire. People with more practical approach stated that the _commandante_ simply went mad and now, for all his sins, was haunted by the figment of his guilty conscience.

Finally, considerable number suspected that the black rider was not the illusion born in Monastario's twisted mind, but the regular, real ghost. Some even claimed to know the precise history of the dark phantom being one of the _commandante's_ victims, though in details the story had as many versions as the people who told it. Quite often, the stories included the woman. Who she was and what role she played in the feud between the officer and his mysterious prosecutor was not sure, but one thing was certain: she was of an exceptional beauty.

And then, when the most exciting tales began to flourish, _el Zorro _pleased to show his black figure to the other citizens of the pueblo, standing up for the blacksmith, putting up the delicious brawl at the tavern and disappearing in the night just from the nose of lancers.

It changed the situation.

People in Los Angeles had a vast knowledge of the rules reigning in the afterlife and were aware of the fact that the ghosts dispose of more sophisticated ways to get their vengeance than by use of very real daggers and sword. Of course, some still claimed that such villain as Monastario deserved a special ghost to haunt him, a ghost with the ability to handle sharp material objects, yet others were convinced that the matter must be more complicated than that.

"_El hombre lobo_," Pina heard the voice of the vaquero staying with his friends under the well in the middle of the plaza and stopped to listen to the conversation. The man continued in the tone of an expert: "I know what I am talking about. My uncle heard that in the caves near San Juan de Capistrano used to live the whole family of werewolves. That is why he wears the mask, to hide the fur on his face."

"_Lupino_ would use claws, not daggers," objected one of his companions, apparently feeling an expert in this field as well. The first one energetically defended his opinion:

"Have you seen that window he got out through? No man could jump from such height."

"No man. But the vampire could. The vampires can fly."

"Yes, but only as bats," chimed in another listener and suddenly the whole group froze.

"True... the fat sergeant saw something like the black bat wings falling down the window," whispered one in awe. For a moment they considered the revelation in frightened silence, until they noticed Reyes mooning around the plaza and quickly moved in his direction.

"Corporal! Corporal, you saw _el Zorro_ in the tavern. What did he look like from near? Did you notice…"

"…if he has a fangs?" squealed someone and the group surrounded the lancer looking at him pleadingly.

Corporal Reyes for a moment stood quiet, adapting himself to the role of the pueblo's celebrity. Then he replied cautiously:

"I saw him precisely. He was horrifying. Each time I think about him my throat goes dry from terror."

Vaqueros exchanged glances and escorted Reyes as the most precious guest toward the tavern.

Pina smiled. Usually the prattle of vaqueros irritated him, but this time he found it amusing. This was indeed a nice pueblo. Pity that… no, he took his decision.

The tavern seemed to be overcrowded and the innkeeper was showing around the small group of peons, pointing them the wall the Fox climbed down to the ground. Obviously, hosting Zorro's tussle was going to pay him off quite well.

Some men sitting in the shadow of the store with the guitars hummed something quietly, silencing immediately when they saw Pina passing by them.

Oh, yes. There were also the people who thought that _el Zorro _is simply the man, brave and determined to defend these who cannot defend themselves. They already started to sing ballads about him.

Neither of this interested the _licenciado_ anymore.

What prevailed his decision was not the Fox, but the visit of the two strange gunsmiths. Monastario handled it in the worst possible manner. He should either play spotless officer or be consequent in his support. Instead, he showed them his weaknesses and then hostilised them. That was very reckless.

Pina had no influence on his decision, so he didn't intend to pay for it.

He was tired, tired with the Fox and with the mysterious plot around Monastario, tired with masked hero and fraudulent strangers. So, he didn't listen to gossip and songs anymore, only headed straight to the _cuartel_.

When the guard let him to the _commandante's_ office, Monastario welcomed him rather reluctantly.

"_Licenciado_? What do you want? I am busy," he said coldly, though he was apparently only playing with some rapier.

_I am tired with you as well,_ concluded bitterly Pina and replied shortly:

"I came to say good bye. I am returning to Mexico."

* * *

Monastario put away the blade he was keeping, stood up and stared at the _licenciado_ with disbelief on his face;

"What did you say?"

"I am leaving Los Angeles," repeated Pina, enjoying the impression his words made on the _commandante_. Really, the man looked like the boy whose toy has just been spoiled!

"And what the stupidity do you mean by that?"

"None. You accused me of collaborating with bandits and plotting against you. I understand that you were angry, but many days passed and you still treat me like an enemy. I came here to work for you. If you don't want my services any more, I have here no business of my own. So, I am leaving. And I want you to know that you treated me unjustly. I always advised you only according to my best judgment."

Maybe that was not the entire truth… but Pina couldn't refuse himself the satisfaction of expressing his grudge against his former superior. Long enough he put up humbly with Monastario's humours, now he could at least say him a few bitter word. When he finished speaking, he looked at the _commandante_ in defiance, expecting the outburst. _Now you can yell as much as you want. I do not care anymore._

To his astonishment, Monastario didn't start to shout, though he bridled a little, shrugging his shoulders.

"Oh, just don't play offended. It doesn't work on me," he stated harshly.

And then his sight returned to the rapier lying on the table. He unsheathed it a bit and ran his fingers along the blade.

"I'm not… playing anything!" snorted Pina, forgetting that he intended to remain cool and composed. "I just do not want to be part of what is happening here anymore."

"You knew very well what kind of things we were going to deal with when you agreed to work with me," observed Monastario. "Now, you have chosen the worst possible moment for sulking. I don't have time for it today."

Even if the _licenciado's_ words surprised the _commandante_, now it seemed that his thoughts floated in some other direction. Pina felt strangely embittered. Here he came, ready to lead his first utterly open conversation with his superior, finally on equal terms… and he didn't even manage to keep Monastario's attention for more than a few seconds.

"No, no, not such things," Pina shook his head, feeling the unusual urge to argue. "I agreed to help you legalize your actions against local opponents… not to fight some masked demons or plot against mysterious conspirators."

"He is no demon! He is just the man and I will get him," Monastario's eyes gleamed sinisterly as he clenched his fists.

_It is useless. He hardly listens what I am saying._

"Very well, do it. It is not my business anymore. Good bye," concluded Pina and turned to the door.

"I really do not have time for this, _Licenciado_," sighed Monastario and some very unpleasant note sounded in his voice, as he said: "How far do you think you will be able to get away on your own?"

Pina froze, slowly moving his sight to the _commandante_, who continued:

"If there are really some people plotting against me, you would be too easy target for them. Or for the Fox. You know too much about me. They would certainly try to get you and use against me. I cannot risk it."

"Is that a threat?" asked quietly Pina. He realized that the conversation might take such direction, yet he hoped that Monastario won't go so far. After all, they worked closely together for a considerable time…

"I do not have to threaten you, _Licenciado_," replied obliviously the _commandante_. "You certainly realize that I have more than enough reasons to arrest you and sent to Monterey with charges of bribery, perjury, perhaps even treason."

"Whatever I did, I did it on your strict orders."

"Can you prove it?"

For a moment their sights met and Monastario smiled.

_So much for talking on equal terms, _Pina thought bitterly. _No. I won't play his game anymore. Even he won't simply… get rid of me. Neither will he send me to the governor. I do know too much about him. It is merely a bluff. I just have to be decisive. _

Monastario must have seen the steeled resolve on Pina's face as he snorted impatiently:

"Enough of this, _Licenciado_! I will get rid of this black masker and then we will continue dealing with the _haciendados_. As for these gunsmiths and their friends, if that calms you, I will write a report to governor, warning about a possible plot. But not now. Zorro comes first. And I won't let anything or anyone to stay in my way when I am dealing with him. That includes you, Tomás, so keep your grudges for another occasion or I may do something you will not like."

"And how are you going to deal with him? You had not much luck so far," Pina couldn't resist snorting with irony, the wan retort for Monastario's threats.

"I found the new way," replied the _commandante_ with undisturbed self-confidence.

"What way?" Pina felt slightly curious, though he repeated himself dozen times it is not his business anymore.

"_El Zorro _seems to have tender heart toward ragtag. So, I gave the order to arrest someone on the charges of aiding this bandit, announcing his execution unless the Fox gives himself in. That should force him to leave his hiding," Monastario grinned widely and his smile made Pina feel strangely unsure. The _commandante_ was all in his new plot now, proudly relating it to the _licenciado_, as if he forgot how he threatened him a moment before. He was always moody, but never displayed such extreme changes of humour. Not knowing how to react, Pina asked only:

"Whom did you arrest?"

"This blacksmith."

"You really think that he was in collusion…"

"It doesn't matter. The Fox will certainly appear to help him. Well, I do not think he will simply give himself in, he will try to trick me somehow… but he will have to show himself, and this time it will happen on my conditions." Monastario once again took the rapier from the black sheath and grasped the hilt.

Pina moved a bit aside.

"And if the bandit doesn't show up?"

"He will," the blade glittered and cut the air with the quiet whistle.

"But if he won't? What will you do with your prisoner?" Pina himself couldn't tell why he was so interested in the answer for this question, yet he felt that it is important. Important for him.

"Tomorrow's market day, many people would witness the execution. It would give a good example, both for the Fox and for the others who would hope for his help," replied Monastario airily.

In this moment Pina realized that behind the lightness of the _commandante's_ voice hid the pure obsession.

_To get this bandit he is ready to cross all limits…_ he thought frowning. _He is unpredictable now. Oh, yes, he would kill the blacksmith. And me too, if he only finds it suitable, he will kill me without hesitation. _

Pina came here ready for quarrel with the _commandante_, prepared to reason or bear threats and accusations. Right now he dreamt only that Monastario forget his existence. There was no way he could reason with him.

As if reading his thoughts, Monastario turned to him, carefully sheathing the weapon.

"As for your plans of leaving… let's just forget about this conversation. It will be better for you that way."

His voice sounded almost friendly, but Pina wasn't misled even for a second. However, there was nothing he could do but nod and exit the office.

_Oh, I hope that he will finally get his Fox, maybe then he will regain his reason and the things will be normal again! _The _licenciado_ thought, watching how gloomy the sergeant closes the cell door behind the prisoner. Some people gathered on the plaza in front of the _cuartel_, the news about the arrest and the challenge the _commandante_ threw to _el Zorro _spreading faster than wind.

"He will come. Whoever he is, from this world or another, he wouldn't fail an innocent man," said someone loudly and someone else started to sing a longing ballad.

* * *

The rest of the day Monastario spent in his office, trying to foresee all the scenarios of incoming confrontation with the Fox. Lancers told him that the _alcalde_ twice wanted to speak with him, first alone, then in the company of some members of the council, but the _commandante_ refused to let them to the _cuartel_. A bit later, Alejandro de la Vega came to and made quite a row under the gate, but Monastario barely listened to the reports on it. There will be time to deal with the _haciendado_ later, now only Zorro counted. Finally Sergeant Garcia, pale and stuttering, approached him with some desperate lies that were to prove that the blacksmith couldn't contact Zorro by any means and out of thousand reasons that the sergeant personally happen to witness. Monastario didn't even bother to punish the lancer, only sent him to keep all the soldiers on guard.

Finally the dusk fell over the pueblo, soon followed by darkness.

Monastario deployed the troopers around the _cuartel_, some of them in open positions, some in hiding, himself circling impatiently between the yard and his office.

What trick will the Fox try to play this time? Whatever it might be, Monastario felt he is prepared for it. Yes, this time the game was played on his terms. They didn't have to chase the bandit, only guard one man, already closed behind bars. No matter how cunning _el Zorro _is, he won't defeat all the lancers. The _commandante_ almost felt the taste of victory, imagining the execution of the bandit he will lead tomorrow. Oh, it will be the market day to remember! He will make it as public as possible, unmasking the man in front of the whole pueblo and all visitors! Or rather, it would be wiser to see his face earlier. If Monastario or any of the lancers would know the real identity of the bandit, they could still this night arrest his family and execute them together… The perspective of crushing his enemy made the _commandante_ thrill with delight.

His dreams were interrupted by the sound of the clock at the church tower ringing midnight. Monastario and his lancers doubled their caution, as if feeling that it is the right time for the mysterious rider to appear – but nothing happened.

They remained tensed and watchful, staring at darkness, listening to each sound that could indicate the arrival of the masked bandit – but the first thing they heard was again the church clock, ringing the next hour.

For the first time Monastario felt the wave anxiety. What if his calculations were wrong and the Fox won't come? What if he estimated his chances coming to the same conclusion as the _commandante_ – that there are none – and decided to sacrifice the life of the prisoner? Monastario almost moaned, feeling as the victory that seemed to be so near slips through his fingers.

No. He will come. 'If you will try to harm the innocent people I will be in shadows waiting for you,' said the bandit during their first encounter. _Don't fail me, Fox, _silently prayed Monastario.

Next two hours passed. The watchfulness of the soldiers, tired with so many hours of waiting in tension, weakened. They shifted searching for more comfortable position, some of them started to whisper quiet talks, some wavered falling into short naps. Monastario circled between them, calling them to attention, almost unconscious with fury and disappointment. The dawn was soon to come… and the Fox didn't appear.

The _commandante_ passed the last glance through the yard, the gate, the roofs of the buildings… Nothing but darkness. Everything was in vain. Well, if the bandit didn't dare to show up, at least his protégée will pay for it.

"Keep watching. And as soon as it dawns, start preparing the gallows," he ordered sharply returning to his office.

In the moment he touched the handle, he heard a swift – and familiar – hiss of steel cutting the air and a dagger landed in the door just in front of him.

Monastario turned like a streak, immediately spotting the familiar dark silhouette on the stables' roof.

"Zorro!" he exclaimed with relief.

"Could you tell your men not to shoot, _Capitán_?" called the bandit. "No matter how quickly they take an aim, my knife will be first."

"Oh, but we not have to shoot at you," merrily replied Monastario, waving for the lancers to lower their muskets. "If you want to save this man in the cell, you have to come to us. Otherwise… well, you may try to kill me and escape, but it will only mean his death."

The blacksmith who till this moment was sitting in his cell in quiet desperation, suddenly stood up, grabbing the bars and called:

"Senor Zorro! Do what…"

"Quiet!" shouted the bandit, adding gentler: "Just be patient, my friend. And no word."

"Enough of this!" ordered Monastario. "Toss aside your weapon and get down. I will release the blacksmith once you are in the cell."

But the Fox looked at him, smiled so widely that even in the darkness Monastario saw the flash of his teeth and asked with a note of challenge ringing in his voice:

"Are you a sporting man, _Capitán_?"

Monastario stiffened, confused by the lack of slightest sign of worry by the bandit and the Fox spoke further:

"If so, I can propose you a wager. A duel. If you win, you have me. If I best you – you let the blacksmith free."

A duel. Oh, yes, Monastario longed for another chance to fight with the Fox. The failure he suffered during their first encounter still lay with the heavy shadow on the _commandante's_ pride. Yet, he had to be careful. He had the upper hand now, Zorro was certainly trying to outmaneuver him somehow…

"So, do you accept the challenge, _Capitán_?" continued the Fox, now his voice clearly mocking. "Or do you prefer to hide behind the muskets of your lancers? Well, it is even reasonable," he admitted with a serious nod "after all we met once and you were no match for me. I understand that you are afraid to cross the blades with me once again."

"Get – down!" panted Monastario, his vision blurred white with fury. "I take your wager. Just get down so that I could run you through!"

The Fox slipped down on the roof of the small shed that was adjacent to the stables.

"If I win the blacksmith goes free and you won't persecute him further?" he made sure. "Your word of honor?"

Despite all the emotions, Monastario struggled to think clearly. No matter how… offending the same idea that he could lose was, it had to be considered. He wasn't afraid of the bandit, yet couldn't bear the thought that the impudent man would go free. But wait… who said that…

The _commandante_ smiled deviously and nodded.

"Yes, he goes free. I just want you to face me. Lancers! Over here!" he called.

The soldiers obeyed, leaving their positions and hidings, crowding around the _commandante_. They all stared at the Fox, both with awe and curiosity and exchanged excited whispers.

"Move aside and make us place," ordered Monastario.

The lancers quickly arranged themselves in the circle, carefully choosing their position so that they could precisely see the fight and still do not get too close to the man in the mask. Even Monastario didn't blame them for their anxiety. They were used to fighting men, not shadows.

And the Fox in his black attire looked like a troubling shadow, darker that the night that surrounded him.

When he slipped down to the yard, the soldiers nearest to him quickly stepped aside, making him more place than necessary to approach the _commandante_.

Monastario wasn't afraid neither of men, nor of shadows. He stared at the Fox almost greedily, overtaken with the euphoria that he finally managed to corner his elusive enemy.

"It is your end, _bandido," _he hissed, knowing that now _el Zorro_ cannot retreat."No matter what happens. I promised to let the blacksmith free. I told nothing about you."

The Fox didn't even flinch, only unfastened his cape, throwing it aside and bared the blade.

"Neither did I ask you for it," he replied calmly stepping into the circle of the lancers.

The conceit of this man was unbearable. Monastario vaguely felt how the rage runs through his veins. Rage even stronger, as he couldn't help involuntarily feel awe for a man who didn't fear to face him in the middle of his _cuartel_, surrounded by all his men… Suddenly all his feelings narrowed to one – the necessity to destroy.

"Sergeant!" he yelled to Garcia. "If he defeats me… kill him, even if it would cost my life!"

The sergeant didn't reply, only made a small step back, staring at the _commandante_ with the opened mouth, as if he couldn't recognize him. The lancers froze in scared silence.

Zorro neared a bit, crooking his head and eyed Monastario cautiously, as if finally a bit surprised.

"Don't get so excited, _Capitán_, it is better to keep a cool head during the fight," he advised slowly. "It was never my intention to bring you into madness."

How dared this man to be so patronizing now? Did he consider it a game of some kind? It was about life and death. _I can ruffle your feathers too, _thought Monastario vengefully.

"Wait for a moment. And no one moves!" he called and quickly rushed to his office.

He returned carrying the rapier in the black scabbard and threw it to the bandit.

"Something you lost. You may use it now."

"My sword?" exclaimed merrily the Fox, examining the blade. "Now, you solved my problem. It wouldn't be easy for me to have it repaired. How much do I owe you?" Then, however, he became serious and looked at Monastario almost with recognition: "I must say you surprised me, _Capitán_. I didn't expect you to be so chivalrous."

Monastario only smirked.

"This weapon must be very special to you. A gift perhaps? Won't the giver be offended that you tampered with the hilt?" he asked venomously, piercing the bandit with watchful glance.

The Fox's face slowly faded, but he replied lightly:

"It is not the hilt that decides about the value of the weapon, only the blade."

"And it is not the attire that decides the man," retorted Monastario. "Now I am certain that your real identity is known to someone in this pueblo. You feared that they can recognize your identity by this weapon. Still, you were so attached to it that you couldn't resign from using this blade, even risking that it will fail you."

"Perhaps you are right, _Capitán_, or perhaps not. You shall never know," the Fox spoke calmly, but his tone was not merry anymore, so Monastario continued with dark satisfaction:

"If you are a sporting man, _el Zorro_, we may take another wager. If you manage to take this sword out of the _cuartel_, you may keep it. Otherwise, you will tell me whose gift was so dear to you," suddenly losing the rest of his control, he hissed hatefully: "Before I destroy you, I will make you watch everyone close to you pay for your deeds."

The Fox looked at the ground under his feet and slowly drew a small circle with the peak of the blade. The circle was perfectly round.

"I do not accept this wager," he replied softly after a while.

Monastario shrugged his shoulders, not sure whether his threats managed to take a desirable effect.

"Whatever. When I will see your face, through your identity I will get to your friends."

"You talk so much, _Capitán_. Are you reluctant to start the fight?" the Fox sighed mockingly and moved nearer, exercising the most elegant salute with the blade. So elegant, that it was clearly offensive.

Monastario lurched forward and two Toledo blades clashed with the melodic sound.

The _commandante_ struggled to control himself, realizing that he started the fight too early, before he was composed and concentrated. He had to make up for it now, and he had to do it quickly, as he remembered how skillful opponent the bandit was. He would certainly use any false move of the _commandante_ to execute a thrust that would find home in his body…

But the Fox didn't attack. He was moving back, all in defensive.

Only after the soldiers surrounding them had to regroup moving back, did Monastario notice that. At first he thought that there is something suspicious about it. He even stopped to charge at his opponent, to check whether he will use the occasion to attack – and he did. Yet, this attack was easy to parry, encouragingly easy. Soon, the Fox was withdrawing again and the lancers kept moving quickly to make their place.

_So, he is not that good after all. That night he simply had luck… or I had a bad moment. Yes, I am better_, the triumph sang in Monastario's soul. Now he was barely aware of anything around them, except for his opponent. The blood rushed through his veins so quickly that he barely heard something except for the pulsing in his temple. The fury changed into exhilaration. One more stroke, one successful thrust and the bandit will lie on the ground, moaning with pain.

_I cannot kill him_ reminded himself Monastario._ Just wound, so that I would still be able to hang him. Oh, why can I kill him only once?_

Still, he didn't manage to give that one successful stroke that would send the black clad man into dust, even if the bandit kept moving back. Finally, they crossed almost the whole yard, nearing to the main gate. Some of the lancers leaned over the huge jambs and the Fox had no more place to withdraw.

In the next second Monastario should finally win.

Well, in the next second.

Strange.

Suddenly, Monastario realized he cannot force his opponent to change their position even an inch. If the Fox made one small step back, it was only to strengthen the blow. Monastario's wrist started to go numb.

The familiar sense of anxiety woke up in him. It was just the same as the last time – slow realization that he may lose the fight… Monastario swallowed anxiously, trying to deafen the arising panic. He caught a glimpse of the lancers, exchanging excited looks and whispers. They didn't seem to be worried, so maybe his situation was not that bad…

His blade flew through the air, landing somewhere under the wall.

"I do not have the time to continue it, so I will not let you take it again," said the Fox, pressing the peak of his blade to Monastario's breast. His breath didn't even speed up much. "Now, your word. Release the blacksmith."

Oh, damn it.

He lost again.

That was… unfair, undeserved. Unacceptable. Still, it was a fact. Monastario's hands were empty and the Toledo blade he enjoyed so much now was pressed to his breast.

Monastario took a few deep breaths, trying to swallow the bitterness of the failure in front of his lancers… and recalculate the situation.

All right. He lost, but Zorro was surrounded by his troops. He will certainly try to use the _commandante_ as the hostage and get out… but it will be enough to divert his attention for a second.

What pity that he lost the fight. Yet, it will still finish the same. With the Fox unmasked and on the gallows.

"Release him," repeated the bandit and there was something very dark in his voice.

Monastario nodded and one of the lancers opened the cell. The blacksmith slowly went outside and hesitated, obviously not sure what to do.

"Go home, my friend," said the Fox. "The _commandante_ won't bother you anymore. Or I will kill him."

_I wonder how, when you will be hanging from the rope_ thought Monastario snickering in amusement in spite of the blade still pressing at his body.

The blacksmith must have come to the same conclusion, as he looked at the bandit in stern expression.

"I cannot agree that you die because of me, Senor."

"Go home, just take the shortest possible road. Remember, the shortest. Now go!" urged him the Fox, adding with the smile. "By the way, you did great work with this blade. Thank you."

"I did my best. I knew you will get it back, Senor Zorro," replied the man boldly. Monastario jerked forward to get the impudent craftsman, but the Fox's blade kept him on place.

"Your word, _Capitán_," he repeated quietly. "Do I have to remind it to you with your blood?"

So, one of the lancers opened the small wicket in the gate and the blacksmith left the _cuartel_, though he kept glancing behind his back.

Now it was time to deal with the Fox.

"Lower your blade," ordered the _commandante_. "You will not save your life by threatening mine; you are only worsening your situation."

"May I have a last wish?" asked merrily the bandit, definitely not sounding like the man preparing himself for death.

"It is usually granted before the execution," snarled Monastario, suspecting some trick, but then curiosity won. "All right, speak, only quickly!"

To his astonishment the Fox shouted:

"Sergeant Garcia! Move toward the other part of the yard!"

The _commandante_ looked surprised behind. Indeed, the sergeant didn't follow Monastario and his opponent with other lancers, only stood strangely dejected, leaning over the boxes piling near the small side doors to the _cuartel_. Now he raised his head and just stared stunned that the bandit was addressing him.

"Just move!" called the Fox so decisively that the stupefied sergeant quickly throttled joining the other soldiers.

"Now, throw down your weapon," ordered Monastario, confused by the strange behavior of the bandit and more eager to finish this game. He wasn't afraid of the blade that the bandit sill kept pressing to his breast. Zorro won the duel, but lost the battle. If he tries to run the _commandante_ through, dozen of lancers' swords will immediately pierce his body. "You are surrounded. You cannot escape, even if you try to fight."

"One more thing, _Capitán_," stated calmly the Fox. "I want you to know that I truly appreciate the efforts of the army when it struggles to protect the safety of the citizens. I don't like being forced to act against the soldiers and I deeply regret that I found no other way…"

"Are you trying flattery now?" asked Monastario in disbelief at this new tone of his opponent. "Nothing will let you get away with the punishment for your crimes. Toss aside your weapon!"

"No, no, you weren't listening, _Capitán_, and you didn't let me finish," reproached him the bandit shaking his head. "Not flattery, but regret. And not for what I did, but for what I am going to do. I am only consoling myself that the fact I was inspired by your idea will make it easier for you to cope with the consequences…''

Monastario furrowed his brows with sudden anxiety that was caused not by the bandit's words, but by the fact that during this prattle he seemed strangely… distracted. He watched his opponent cautiously. The Fox almost squinted his eyes, tensed and concentrated… and yes, his lips were moving wordlessly, as if he was silently… counting.

"Enough of this! Throw down your weapon!" the _commendante_ ordered sharply and using the distraction of the bandit, jumped back out of reach of his blade. Zorro didn't even try to prevent him from it.

Somewhere behind the _cuartel's_ walls the horse neighed.

The Fox fell on his knees covering his eyes with his left arm

_What the hell…_ crossed through Monastario's mind as he looked stupefied around.

The wave of the explosion knocked him from his feet, the bang and flash stunning his senses for a moment, till he realized what happened.

The gunpowder in the storage near the side doors, someone just blew it up, just as the _commandante_ planned it some time ago.

"Damn! Don't let him escape!" yelled Monastario trying to stumble to his feet, though so dazed, that he couldn't regain the sense of balance and tell down from up.

Not all the lancers got knocked down by the explosion, but the moment of surprise was enough for the Fox to roll out of the circle of soldiers surrounding him. Those, who managed to stay on their feet, followed him with the bared blades, but the bandit now parried their attacks with his back protected by the walls.

The _commandante_ made a staggering run for his weapon, stumbling over some lancers and rushed toward the fight he rather felt then saw. His hearing was still ringing and under his eyes danced the reflection of the explosion. He saw practically nothing but blurry shadows and barely heard the lancers' shouts and the fire of muskets.

Zorro got somehow to the bannister running in front of the entrances to the soldiers' rooms and ran quickly down the wooden platform. Monastario followed him blindly, while the lancers that were happy enough not to look in the direction of explosion in the moment of the flash climbed to the landing from the other side, blocking the bandit's way.

Monastario hardly noticed that the bandit returned into his direction and, though still blinded, charged wildly forward. The Fox didn't parry, only dived somehow under his blade and the commandante for the second time this night got knocked down. For a moment he tried to catch the bandit and pin the him to the ground, but the Fox pushed him away easily, leaped once again on the banister, caught one of the ropes fastened to the _cuartel's_ pole and – having flown with one swift jump over the head of astonished lancers – landed softly on the stable's roof.

"Follow him! No, you idiots," yelled Monastario seeing as the lancers try to climb to the roof, while the Fox's silhouette already disappeared behind the other side of the roof, "to the horses! After him!"

"_Capitán_! What about this?" while Monastario was jumping on his mount, Sergeant Garcia ran to him pointing the still smoking remains of the side doors and storage. The _commandante_ looked a bit unconsciously around. Luckily, his vision slowly returned.

"Stay and take care about it. But first get the man who lit the fuse!" he ordered and, not losing time for opening the gate, rushed his horse toward the smoldering hole. The stallion protested, rearing with fear at the heat and the strokes of fire, but Monastario only pulled the reins and hit spurs into the animal's sides.

So, the white horse jumped over the debris into the night outside the _cuartel_ and Monastario sharply swerved him to the direction of the black rider disappearing at the end of the street.

The lancers followed him and the chase began.

In a few seconds they were outside the pueblo. It was still dark, yet the night was cloudless and the moonlight clearly framed the silhouette of the Fox, glittering over his shirt and smooth sides of his mount. Monastario rose in stirrups and urged his horse, all in the wild gallop. Cool air hissing around his face was strangely soothing, bringing the turmoil of his mind into control. As long as he had the bandit within his sight, the case was not lost.

Unfortunately, as he regained the ability to assess the situation, he couldn't not notice that the distance between them was growing. What kind of devil's beast was that bandit was riding? Monastario loved horses, his white cost him a fortune and was the swiftest in this part of California… Still, he seemed to be losing to this black monster.

Suddenly the Fox turned abruptly leaving the highway, jumping somewhere over the dense bushes growing on its side. Monastario followed him, forcing his mount to the same maneuver. The horse obeyed, yet he felt how the animal stumbled and shivered uncertainly after the spring, whereas the black ahead of them continued to flit between and over rocks and thickets with the grace unwonted by any animal bred by man.

_This horse is worth as much gold as he weights, _Monastario couldn't help reluctant admiration. _Speedy as wind and in addition a jumper. How could the bandit come into possession of such animal?_

The black rider was maneuvering now like the real fox with the hounds on his tale, unceasingly changing the direction in abrupt turns, disappearing in each second behind the trees and stones. Monastario blinked and strained his sight, in order not to lose him after one of these wild swerves. Moonlight stopped being his ally, now playing jokes with his eyes, casting shadows and spots, hindering to locate the chased bandit. Suddenly, he realized that in a place where he hoped to see the glitter of black attire, were only leaves shining in the glow… and he had no idea which direction the Fox could have taken.

For a moment the _commandante_ just stood helpless in the middle of the night, unexpectedly quiet and empty, trying to hear the tramp… but he heard only the snorting of his own tired mount. When finally the hoof-beats neared in the air, they were only the lancers that caught up with him at last.

"Spread and search! He cannot be far!" ordered Monastario, yet deep inside already knowing that they won't see the Fox anymore this night.

The bitterness of failure, total failure, floated over him. How could he let this man to trick him so easily? When this night began, he held all the trumps, now his hands were empty again.

The _commandante_ heard the shouts of the lancers combing through the terrain, but he himself barely moved, chewing anger and frustration.

No, no. Monastario refused to acknowledge that he was cheated like a child. There had to be some way, something he still could do. He called for men to rally and looked around.

"Where in the hell are we?" he asked sharply and one of the lancers, bred in Los Angeles, answered:

"On the borders between la Brea and de la Vega ranchos."

De la Vega! True, each time when someone called Zorro's name in the presence of Alejandro, the man almost shivered with fondness for his bandit. It wouldn't be strange if he provided him with shelter. And if so… _Maybe I was wrong to defer dealings with rancheros, _thought Monastario with unpleasant smile.

"To the hacienda!"

When they reached their aim, the moon faded and the sky slowly started to grey at the east, revealing the sharp contours of rocky hills surrounding them. The first servants of the hacienda already started to bustle around the household. Monastario ordered his men to surround it and in company of a few lancers rushed through the gate. It was not barred, so someone must have already used it today. The _commandante's_ heart beat stronger with hope.

"Fetch your master," he ordered to a scared native servant that peeked at the patio.

"He is not at home…" stuttered shyly the man.

"Not at home? At this hour? And where…"

The door over them crackled loudly and Monastario moved to the stairs leading to the upper part of the building. Young de la Vega, almost unconscious from sleepiness, with tousled hair falling over squinted eyes staggered over the banister:

"_Capitán_ Monastario?" he croaked in a hoarse voice, hardly recognizing the _commandante_. "Forgive me, but visits at such hour… by unrelated acquaintances… are just unacceptable."

"It is not the courtesy visit..." started Monastario and froze for a moment. How was it? Daniel? Damián? "Not a social visit, Senor! We are chasing the bandit," he finished with irritation.

"I would never dare to disturb you fulfilling your professional duties… but do they have to interfere with my sleep?" muttered the young man wrapping stronger around him the ornate blue night robe, that each senorita would be happy to possess. Monastario would sooner die than put on something like this.

"Has anyone arrived at the hacienda?"

"I have no idea," de la Vega gasped heavily hiding his eyes from the first sunrays that made their way to the patio.

_And I've got no time to wait till he wakes himself up, _bridled Monastario and asked sharply.

"Senor, where is your father? I have the reasons to suspect him of abetting the bandit Zorro."

"He is at the pueblo," the young man swallowed hardly and leaned himself at the wall, still unable to keep straight on his legs. "We are having guests… They traveled by night, when it is cooler… So, he rode for them. Not for Zorro. Or any other… creature."

"And you didn't accompany him?" Monastario narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"It is barely dawning!" de la Vega moaned looking at the _commandante_ as if he just went insane. The he rubbed his temple. "If you want to search the hacienda, please do, just don't bother me any longer! Oh, Benito, good that you are here. Show them the house, the stables, everything they want to see," he languidly waved his hand toward the anxious _caporal_ that appeared on the patio. "_Capitán_, just tell your lancers to behave quiet and stay away from my room!" he finished with obvious irritation and retreated to his quarter, slamming the door behind him.

_Well, well, the sleeping prince can get moody while defending his rest…_ thought Monastario amused and a bit surprised.

Suddenly he stiffened. Stay away from his room? Was it possible that it was… an act?... Overtaken by suspicion he jumped up the stairs.

"I'd like to see your room, Senor," he said sharply, opening the door.

"Oh, Heavens. Please, it is my room. See it," sighed de la Vega heavily leaning himself on the wall and Monastario stepped inside, for a moment certain that in a second he will meet his black clad bandit.

Yet everything he saw was the usual room of the rich hacienda, with big mantelpiece, dark wooden furniture, disheveled covers on the bed and piles of books and notes everywhere. On the wall hung the portrait of a dark haired beauty with the baby on her lap and the commandante fleetingly wondered if that was Alejandro's wife and the toddler she was holding - his now quite grown-up son. The shutters were carefully closed, but the light coming through the doors was enough to show that the room is empty.

Monastario felt very stupid, not at his intrusion, but at the fact that for a short while he felt so sure that the Fox will be hiding in this room. _What happens to my reason?_ he lamented silently.

"If you want to search for your bandit in the wardrobe, or under the bed, or in the mantelpiece, don't hesitate, just be swift about it," muttered ironically de la Vega shifting to a more comfortable position and closing his eyes, obviously ready to fell asleep on his feet.

"Good night, Senor, and don't worry, there is still plenty of time till the tavern opens, you will manage to rest before the next straining day of yours," retorted maliciously Monastario and left.

* * *

Descending the stairs to the patio, where his men, uncertain whether they should search the household, stood with the _caporal_, Monastario mechanically corrected his uniform… with surprise noticing some dark stains at his jacket.

Blood.

The _commandante_ froze and quickly moved his hands over his ribs and arms… but he was not hurt. Even Zorro's blade didn't cut his skin. So how… He recreated the night's events – and the only moment that could explain it was when he and the bandit for a moment wrestled on the stairs in the _cuartel_.

So, the Fox was wounded. Monastario struggled to recall as much from the night's battle as possible… but he couldn't recall the bandit moving with anything less than his usual cat's grace…

_Yet most likely it is his blood…_ he thought with pensiveness. Apparently, even the elusive Fox cannot tease all the lancers in the middle of the _cuartel_ unpunished.

Actually this notion was of no direct value. The wound could not have been fatal, as Zorro was still able to lose the pursuit in the mad gallop. The _commandante_ didn't even know how and where the man was wounded.

Yet, it made Monastario… calm down.

_So, at least I know he can be hurt, both in body and in soul._ _My words about his kin stuck the chord, even if he tried to hide it. He can be hurt, because he is no more than a man._

All the dark desperation, all obsession that clenched his mind and soul slowly faded, giving place to his usual cold calculation. His enemy was sly, handy with weapon and lucky in fight… but all luck has its limits. And the _commandante_ was cunning too.

_I was bordering at madness this night_, Monastario suddenly realized with all clarity. _It cannot repeat. I must hold the grip on myself. The Fox can be hurt and he can be caught._

* * *

Having returned to the _cuartel,_ Monastario followed de la Vega's example and threw himself into the bed. Around noon he was awakened by the hammers clattering on the yard: Sergeant Garcia didn't of course manage to find Zorro's helper who lit the fuse, yet he cleaned the yard from the ashes and debris and he installed new doors to the side gate. Now the workers started to rebuild the small storage. Luckily, the _cuartel's_ walls weren't damaged by the explosion, so everything should soon return to its previous state.

_Still, that is always an occasion to impose some special tax, to cover the losses, _thought Monastario serenely and exited the _cuartel_, noticing with slight surprise that lancers even more carefully than usual avoid getting into his sight. Sergeant Garcia, who supervised the repairs and urged the workers with loud shouts, having noticed the _commandante_, disappeared like the mist on the windy day. _Well, they did put on a good show of incompetence… _admitted Monastario, but decided to postpone the eventual punishment, instead enjoying the sunny day.

The _commandante_ looked lazily around. As usual in the market day, the plaza was bubbling with people crowding between stalls, buying, selling, shouting, quarrelling… He noticed de la Vega's carriage pushing between the crowd on the plaza and the _cuartel's_ walls and smirked, recalling his morning encounter with Alejandro's son. The boy was now sitting by the side of his father, holding the reins, and though dandy as usual, looked rather miserable. Apparently the wake-up at dawn must have cost him a lot. Monastario cast at him malicious glance… and froze.

Even if he saw in that carriage the Fox himself, he wouldn't be so stunned as with the view of the person sitting on the back seat.

It was the woman. Young and pretty. Very pretty. No, not pretty. She was just precious. Stunning.

It took no more than few seconds till the carriage passed by him, but the _commandante_ managed to notice everything – dark curls framing the fair face, glittering eyes, merry smile and the most shapely figure in colourful dress.

Monastario stood dazed for a moment, until he realized that the carriage is already a few yards away, stopping in the nearby shadow. His mind started to work quickly – if he goes to de la Vegas and starts some conversation, Alejandro will be forced to introduce him to the girl. He moved fast toward them, straightening and correcting his uniform.

Unfortunately, as soon as the carriage halted, the girl exclaimed joyously something like 'The market!' and dived into the stalls with such ardour, that the elderly woman accompanying her barely managed to get out of the seat and follow her. Monastario got to the carriage only to hear the young de la Vega saying quietly:

"Father, why don't you show them around in the pueblo, and I will wait here for you with Bernardo?"

"Diego, if you think that I have organized this escapade so that I would accompany the ladies and you Bernardo, you are deeply mistaken," replied his father sneeringly. "Now, don't be rude."

"Father, it is hot and today I just do not feel…" the young man kept complaining, but Alejandro cut him with one reproachful glance.

"Diego."

"Yes, Father, I am going," Alejandro's son gave up and started slowly to crumble of the carriage. "Oh, good morning, _Capitán_," he said noticing Monastario and lightly jumped to the ground. "So we meet again."

"Monastario? Do you want something? Something you forgot during your morning visit?" Alejandro asked harshly. "Because if not I have business to attend."

"I was just passing by," the _commandante_ replied with dignity and turned on the spot, not having at the moment the head to quarrel with de la Vega. Luckily, he spotted Sergeant Garcia under the _cuartel's_ gate, watching the crowd under the tavern with wistful expression.

"Sergeant? Have you seen the senorita who arrived with de la Vegas?" Monastario asked trying to sound casual. "Do you know whom she may be? I have never seen her at the pueblo before."

The sergeant at first stiffened at the voice of his _commandante_, but then, hearing the question, relaxed.

"Oh, yes," he nodded. "Senorita Peréz, she arrived today with her father. They are the guests at the de la Vega hacienda. They arrived at the morning, when you were still chasing Zorro, _Capitán_, so you didn't meet them."

"True, de la Vega told me something about the guests," muttered Monastario. "How long are they going to stay?"

"I don't know, they spoke about couple of weeks. But," the sergeant giggled jovially, "I have heard some gossips. It is said that both Don Alejandro and Senor Peréz promise themselves much after that visit. Who knows, perhaps the senorita is going to stay longer. Much longer," he winked pointing at the young de la Vega, who just caught up with his pretty guest and started to show her around the stalls.

"Oh. So, that's… Oh," Monastario almost gasped with disappointment. If the fathers already made arrangements… "And the young one, what does he think about it? I mean, about the senorita?" he asked with a shadow of hope remembering how reluctant Alejandro's son was to take care about the girl.

"I don't know, _Capitán_…" Garcia shook his head. "I only know that I wouldn't hesitate long in his place…" he sighed staring at the pretty figure in the bright dress.

"Neither would I. Nor even a second…" echoed him Monastario, leaning on the wall near the sergeant and sending the wistful glance in the same direction.

* * *

Pina for a moment froze in confusion furrowing his eyebrows, as he saw Monastario and Garcia staring at Diego de la Vega with blissful expressions. Then he followed their glance once more and finally spotted some girl accompanying the young man.

_Oh, really, _he muttered impatiently and went his way, trying not to get too near to Monastario. He even preferred not to imagine in which mood the _commandante_ must be after his last failure, especially that it has been so… public.

Still, Monastario noticed him.

"_Licenciado_! Can we talk?" he called quite calmly and, obviously reluctant to leave such suitable observing post, turned to the Garcia. "Sergeant, you are free now. If you want you may go to the tavern."

"I am afraid I may not," muttered the lancer, this time sending the longing glance directly to the young de la Vega, who, occupied by his pretty companion, certainly didn't intend to visit the tavern and drink with lancers this time.

So, Garcia made a few uncertain steps forward and stopped, not sure what to do. In this moment he was approached by a group of some merchants, bowing with their hats in their hands, who very humbly asked him to give them the honour of his company by dinner. Sergeant chocked with surprise, but didn't hesitate much. As they headed for the tavern, Pina heard them asking shyly, whether last night _el Zorro_ left the _cuartel_ disappearing under ground in lightings and flames or changing into a bat that flew away into the night's sky.

The _licenciado_ neared cautiously to Monastario, who in surprisingly good humour watched the crowd with the wide grin.

"Have you seen that girl?" he pointed at the companion of the young de la Vega

"Yes, young and pretty, there are dozens of such in California," replied Pina obliviously, but then remarked a bit cutting: "Still, it is good that you managed to notice someone not wearing the black mask."

The _commandante_ only shifted a bit, and remained silent so long, that Pina was almost ready to say good bye and leave, when Monastario finally spoke again.

"As for our last conversation, _Licenciado_... I am cautious. You must agree I had every right to be suspicious about you. However, I did you no harm," he muttered surprisingly faintly and Pina froze in disbelief realizing that it was the closest thing to apology he could ever hear from Monastario.

"So, did you finally believe me?"

"I am cautious," Monastario repeated only, yet added almost consolingly: "But the end of this bandit is near. Last night he managed to escape, but I think he was wounded. Next time he may have even less luck."

Pina understood that it would be better not to continue this subject, only enjoy the small truce they made. Besides, he had something to report.

"I heard the rumours that the _cabildo_ is going to issue the next complain for you to the governor. This time a bit more elaborate one. They calculated the taxes for maintenance of the _cuartel_… and estimated expenditures… and…"

"Oh, don't bother yourself with it," Monastario only shrugged his shoulders. "It is a common practice that officers arrange some addition to the payroll."

"And… how high this addition may be?" asked quietly Pina not sharing his optimism.

"Your pay is in it," Monastario cut him rather coldly. "But I assure you, no one in Monterey is going to pay attention to it. There aren't so many officers willing to take the post as such, so as long as I am effective…"

Pina silenced, but the self-confidence of his superior didn't dispel his doubts.

True, many things were tolerated as long as the officer proved effective. However, now Monastario's incapacity to deal with the lonely bandit became more and more public. If the Fox decides to do something that will utterly discredit the _commandante_, someone in Monterrey may finally find it suitable to look at the _cabildo's_ complains with more consideration…

_And I wonder who was so obliging and patient to go through all these financial records,_ thought Pina sneeringly, looking in the direction of the young de la Vega. _Not any of these hot-headed old fools from the cabildo, I am sure! _

Oh, why do the troubles always have to appear in pairs? And yes, that young one was trouble, no matter what Monastario said and how much he laughed at him. The man does not need to carry the weapon by his side to be dangerous. He may quarrel with his father, but gets along well with the _alcalde_. All their clams and petitions normally would be harmless, but now, with the Fox proving Monastario's incompetence at each occasion…

_Why did it all have to happen in the same time, this nosey bookworm and this damn Fox!_ Pina bridled with quite irritation… and suddenly felt very, very weak at the idea that crossed though his mind.

Oh, well.

His legs went slightly feeble, so the _licenciado_ looked down to make sure that he stays still on the solid ground. Then he absently kicked a small stone.

But certainly that serene, friendly man couldn't be the black bandit who appeared in Pina's quarters and threatened him with the blade?

The _licenciado_ kicked the stone back.

_Of course that he could,_ he thought coldly.

The friendlier the man was, the more suspicions he should awake – that was what he thought when he saw the young man for the first time… and perhaps he should have stuck to this thought.

No, no. It was impossible. De la Vega might be wise and witty, but his wisdom was taken from books. He was a scholar, not adventurer.

Or maybe he loved adventures so much that he turned his whole life into one.

Pina shook his head in confusion. Sometime ago one of his acquaintances, freshly arrived from the long travel, showed him a kind of Scottish optic toy, circle of mirrors containing loose beads and pebbles. As the viewer looked into it, reflections composed colourful, complicated patterns, changing with the slightest move into a new combination, when the pebbles rolled on the mirror. On could get giddy at the rapid changes of the colourful pictures…

Pina had a feeling of looking in such device right now, as the pieces of the information twirled in his head, instantly creating new patterns.

_He is clever. _

_He never even raises a voice to anyone. He hates violence._

_No. He says he hates violence._

_He is a de la Vega. Alejandro's son would never lie._

_Probably._

_He is always so polite and friendly to everyone… _

_Even to Monastario, who is his father's worst enemy. No one can have so much control… unless he has good reason to control himself._

Pina helplessly shook his head once more, lost in contradictory emotions. He needed something more… something more to decide. As he desperately recalled everything he knew about the Fox, searching for anything that would strengthen or dispel his new suspicions, suddenly he recalled Monastario's last words about the bandit. If he really got wounded…

The _licenciado _leaned to Monastario and said quietly:

"Go there, toward de la Vega and… run into him."

"What?' the _commandante_ was so surprised that he tore his eyes from the girl and stared at Pina in confusion.

"Hit him accidentally, push him, something like this, I will be watching him," Pina urged him hectically a bit louder. "Just go, I will explain later."

Monastario snorted, but dived into the crowd while Pina, feverish and nervous, fixed his gaze upon the young man, determined not to lose him from sight for even a second. It wasn't easy, de la Vega strolled with the girl from one stall to another, watching the goods, talking with merchants… Pina shifted and climbed to his toes, cautiously following him with scrutinizing gaze. If he really is wounded… he won't be able to refrain from some display of pain…

Pina observed the young man so intensely, that his eyes almost began to run, when suddenly his concentration was disrupted by the loud commotion just behind de la Vega. Involuntarily, the _licenciado _looked at this direction… just to see two men awkwardly crumbling on the ground between the stalls. Monastario and… de la Vega's deaf and mute servant.

_And this one keeps popping out from each corner, like the jack from the box!_ Pina almost cursed, the pebbles in his head beginning to arrange in the picture of the masked rider.

De la Vega turned back, startled by the noise behind him, and politely reached his hand to Monastario to help him stand.

The picture of the black rider started to disperse, yet Pina sent the silent message to the _commandante_: _Take his hand! Lean on him! _

But in this moment the girl started to giggle at the scene and Monastario, furious and confused, got on his feet without using any help. Then he rushed toward the scared servant, probably ready to hit him for his clumsiness, but he was blocked by the young de la Vega… carefully brushing off the dust from his uniform.

The pebbles in Pina's head went crazy.

Monastario returned to him almost red with anger.

"Now, what was it all about?" he snarled, fighting with the dark stains on his formerly spotless trousers.

"I was wondering whether he could be…" the _licenciado_ started with hesitation and finished weakly. "Well, that he might be the Fox."

"Who?" Monastario started at him blankly.

"The Fox. Zorro," repeated Pina a bit stronger.

"That I heard, but who are you talking about?"

"Diego de la Vega."

Monastario blinked a few times and snorted with irritation.

"Is it another of your desperate tries to draw my attention, _Licenciado_?"

Pina took deep breath, struggling to order the mess in his head.

"He suits all the clues you gathered about the Fox. He is young, tall and slim, he arrived recently… and he is always near everything that happens in the pueblo."

Monastario started to laugh.

"Yes, _Licendiado, _that's all truth, that all suits perfectly. Apart from the one small inconsistency: that the Fox uses the steel blade, not the walking stick!"

"And how can you know that de la Vega is not using the walking stick during the day and the steel blade at night?" retorted Pina, though rather weakly.

"Only someone like you, _Licenciado_, with no idea about physical struggle, could say something so awkward," commented Monastario still laughing. "The Fox is the man used to violent ways, not shy to deal the blow, whereas this one… he is just… no more than a courteous jellyfish!"

The _commandante's_ eyes shined with amusement, as he enjoyed his comparison and when he saw that Pina only shakes his head unconvinced, he exclaimed impatiently: "Everyone knows he cannot fight!"

"All I know is that he says he does not fight and that no one saw him fight," muttered Pina.

"So, just look at him. He even doesn't know how to keep the blade," Monastario pointed at de la Vega, who was just staying by the stall with the swords and rapiers.

The young man took one of the blades and kept it is such manner that he managed simultaneously to endanger his own eyes and the stall-keeper's throat. The vendor quickly took the weapon from his hands and the girl accompanying him burst out with giggle again, taking another blade herself and showing her companion how it should be handled. Yet, her laughter was merry, not mocking and when she showed off with the rapier it was obviously not to sneer at him, but rather to better present her figure. Pina couldn't recognise whether it made a desirable effect at the young de la Vega, but judging from Monastario's rapturous expression, such view certainly worked on him.

Pina was unmoved by the both shows, neither of de la Vega, nor of the girl.

"Certainly the one who knows how to keep the sword, knows also how not to keep it," he only said coldly.

Monastario kept silent for a moment. Apparently, Pina's words for the first time made some impression of him. However, after the moment of consideration he sighed unconvinced.

"Don't you know people at all, _Licenciado_? He is from the old noble family, a hidalgo… Man of his station would never disgrace himself with the bandit's mask! I agree, that if he were like his father he could gather men, start rebellion, attack openly, true, but…"

"Rebellion?" Pina get into his word and spoke hectically. "And if he started rebellion, you would execute him, his men and his father, as the traitor and the traitor's helpers. Even if they would defeat you, another officer would come and then another, till they would finally loose. The result would be always the same: the men killed, the family name shamed and their lands seized."

Monastario only nodded in agreement, evidently satisfied with the order of things in California.

"So, maybe he wasn't interested in such result," concluded slowly Pina and added conciliatorily: "I am not saying that he is _el Zorro. _I am only suggesting that we shouldn't exclude such possibility."

The _commandante_ for a moment considered his words, and suddenly gave up waving his hand.

"All right. I will arrest him. Then we will see," he said looking around in search for some lancers.

"Wait, on what charges?" Pina almost grabbed Monastario's arm, but then thought better and only stepped in front of him. "You have no proof. If you at least knew how the Fox was wounded… but you don't and even if de la Vega is hurt in any way… he will certainly give some credible and innocent explanation."

"Personally, I wouldn't be surprised if he hurt himself with the spoon eating dinner…" snorted Monastario, "but nevertheless I will arrest him. At least it will put him out of the way for some time," he said dreamily.

"You will only give him a warning! He will lie himself out and be more careful in the future!" exclaimed Pina almost with desperation and, seeing the unpleasant glitter in Monastario's eyes, added warningly: "He is not some miserable vaquero. If you mistreat him without any proof and he turns out to be innocent, all the other dons will make so much noise that it may be heard even in Spain."

Monastario nodded, even if slowly and very reluctantly. Unfortunately each power had its limits, even his power over the pueblo and its citizens.

"We need the proof that he is someone other than he claims to be," continued Pina calmer. "For example, as it evokes so much of your doubts, that he is hiding his fighting skills."

"I may call him out. I assume such fight would look good for me," said eagerly Monastario, his eyes again running toward the bright figure of the pretty senorita.

"No, he would never accept the challenge. It must be… it must be… Please, _Capitán,_ stop staring at this girl and come to my office, we must discuss it."

"You really are serious about it!" exclaimed the _commandante_, finally looking straight at Pina.

"Yes, I am," nodded the _licenciado_ seriously. "Let's go."


	6. Masqueraders 1

**Masqueraders**

Pina looked discreetly around the sala – it had been a few months since he last visited the de la Vega hacienda on the occasion of some festivity, but it didn't change much. It was comfortable and cozy, just as the _licenciado_ remembered, a perfect place for a peaceful rest… Well, not at the moment. Right now it seemed that in the middle of the snug room were gathering stormy clouds – just around Don Alejandro, whose face was slowly darkening with anger.

"Let me put it this way, _Capitán_: I do not care what kind of mess you have at your records, but it is your problem. I do not have time for soldiers' whims," he stated fiercely, closing the book Monastario showed him with a loud crash that made Pina jump and Alejandro's son, who was playing some quiet melody at the piano – lose the rhythm for a moment.

"I must remind you then, Senor de la Vega, that it is duty of each ranchero to provide the authorities with the proper measurement of their lands, for the tax purpose," replied Monastario with junction, narrowing his eyes like the very content cat playing with his future dinner.

Maybe the _commandante_ wasn't very enthusiastic about the plot prepared by Pina, but now he was definitely enjoying the occasion to rile up the stubborn _haciendado_.

"All my measurements are proper!" shouted the don.

His son pressed the keys of the piano a bit stronger.

"Yes, all – but the ones concerning this small rancho by the western highway. You see," Monastario patiently opened the book once again at the right page, "it is hardly legible, and I cannot…"

"All I see is that you are trying to find the way to hinder our life again. Legible or not, I am not going to lose two days riding to some remote area just to satisfy your absurd demands. If you want to have this measurement repeated, send your soldiers. I have a two thousand herd to brand and there is a cattle auction next week."

"You are not the one to appoint the tasks for my lancers, Senor. And I need these forms filled before the end of the quarter – which means the end of the next week."

Maybe Monastario was relishing the quarrel, but Pina couldn't stand the tension. It was all his idea, true, but right now he would prefer to be somewhere far, far away. As the _commandante_ and de la Vega kept arguing, he preferred to clang to the merry melody that Alejandro's son was playing. It was very nice indeed…

The young man must have somehow felt Pina's attention and he turned to him with friendly smile and wink, as he speeded the tempo a little.

For a moment remorse almost made Pina's stomach turn upside down. This man was the only one in Los Angeles who smiled to the _licenciado_ so cordially. Well, as the matter of fact he was the only one who smiled to him at all.

And everything that Pina did in the last week was aimed at destroying him.

The _licenciado_ shook his head moving aside the sentiments. If this young man was the Fox, he posed a danger to Pina's whole existence.

Alejandro and Monastario, however, didn't appreciate the music, only raised their voices louder and louder to overshout it. Finally, the _haciendado_ turned to his son with irritated expression:

"Diego, don't you think you should join the conversation? I hoped I could count on your support."

"I was doing my best, Father, it is said that Mozart has an appeasing influence at the most vicious beasts," muttered the young man with a slight bow toward Monastario, but he obediently closed the lid of the instrument and turned toward the others with tired expression.

"Is all this commotion about these few pastures we have behind the Mission of San Gabriel?"

"It is about respect to the law," replied solemnly Monastario.

"Law? Do not use the words you made the mockery of!" started Alejandro, but his son interrupted him raising the hand:

"Please, Father. I will go, if that is the only way to finish this discussion," he sighed. "I wasn't seeing myself branding the cattle anyway."

"You should rather take care about our guests," bridled his father. "That is only an unnecessary delay in the matters that..."

"Father, it will take no more than two days. Nothing will be delayed. So, _Capitán_, I will go tomorrow and fill in all your forms. I hope you find this solution satisfying."

"Well, why not. Gracias," murmured Monastario, pretending to be confused by this proposition.

Yet as soon as they were outside the hacienda, the _licenciado_ and the _commandante_ exchanged triumphant glances. Oh, yes, that was the most satisfying.

That was exactly what they wanted to achieve.

* * *

Monastario felt awkward, strange, uncomfortable. He kept casting glances at his arms and legs and couldn't recognize them. The trousers and jacket pinched in some unusual way, the pockets, the belt, the weapon were not where they should be, the fabrics, the colors were all wrong, and generally he felt simultaneously furious and miserable.

For the first time in ages, so long that even he couldn't tell how many years it had been, he was wearing civilian clothes.

"I really do not know why I allowed you to talk me into it," he muttered angrily to Pina, fighting with some silly buttons of even sillier vest.

"Don't complain, _Capitán_," replied the _licenciado_ unmoved by Monastario's discomfort. "You didn't manage to catch _el Zorro _playing your game, so now you have to try to play his. Besides, me and Sepulveda did the most difficult parts. You will only have to watch the show."

That was true. This time the roles between the _commandante_ and his aid switched: once Pina came up with idea that young de la Vega might be someone else than he appeared to be, the lawyer took the initiative of preparing the plan that could prove his suspicions right or wrong. Monastario only let him act, observing the unusual engagement of the _licenciado_ with indulgent smile, occasionally bursting out with the loud laughter, when he imagined the young dandy changing his ruffled clothes into the black attire or putting the mask of the Fox on his carefully combed hair.

No, after the calm consideration the _commandante_ came to the conclusion that the son of Alejandro de la Vega couldn't be the masked bandit. Monastario met the Fox more often than Pina, each time noticing more and more details about his opponent. Among other things, he observed in Zorro's eyes, in his smile, some cocky exhilaration with the fight, danger, competition… It was not possible that a man like the young de la Vega, who savored life so much, relishing the best of it in the most comfortable way, could simultaneously enjoy risking it so recklessly.

Besides, de la Vega was clumsy milksop. Bookworm full of catchy words, yet with no spirit to bring them into life. Spineless coward. Popinjay. Lazy and weird. That was what Monastario thought about him when he saw him for the first time… and now refused to admit that he could have been cheated as a newborn. He considered himself too clever man for it.

Yet, he didn't stop Pina.

The young de la Vega was awkward and clumsy, but there was something impressive in his behavior. Whether it was because of his manners, or because of his composure and elocution, he had charm and style that Monastario secretly envied him.

And the _commandante_ had to admit that he observed something similar by the Fox: similar elegance. True, by the young dandy it was almost ridiculous, by the bandit – nonchalant and dangerous, but still, there was certain unsettling resemblance.

So, Monastario let Pina develop his plan and put it into action. Just in case.

That was why now the _commandante_, clothed in some brownish suit, was preparing himself in the _licenciado's_ office to ride – not on his white stallion, only on some miserable nag from garrison's stables – through the wilderness and crawl through rocks and bushes, to witness the last scene of Pina's intrigue.

"Look, he is already at the plaza," observed the _licenciado_ nearing to the window. "Oh, he is accompanying their guests the pueblo, so if you want to see your girl…"

The remark was a bit mocking, but Monastario was already at the second window, melting at the view of the pretty senorita.

The young de la Vega, ready to the trip, arrived to the pueblo on his palomino, accompanying the carriage with Senor Peréz and his daughter. Now he said goodbye to them and for a short moment followed the pair with his eyes, as they headed for the church… with his servant escorting them a few steps behind.

"He left the servant in Los Angeles? Strange. I thought he takes this cripple everywhere with him," muttered Monastario surprised.

"Perhaps he left him to look after this girl. It seems he cares for her," now Pina's voice was clearly malicious. "From what we could see in the last days, he rather enjoys her company."

"I haven't heard the wedding banns yet," Monastario snorted, irritated by Pina's remark.

The smirk on the _licenciado's_ face reminded him, that he wouldn't hear the banns, even if they were announced. His visits in the church were... highly unsystematic.

"There were banns last Sunday?" he asked, clearing the throat to sound casual.

"No," sighed Pina. "Please, _Capitán_, you must ride."

Monastario fastened the belt with his sword, tucked the pistol behind the sash and put the hat on, casting the last glance into the mirror.

"Very well," nodded approvingly the _licenciado_. "From the distance, no one will recognize you. De la Vega will be riding along the highway, and he will certainly stop for a while at the mission to visit the padre, so if you go through the hills, you will be at the crossroads at least two hours before him. Yet do not to stop anywhere. Most people will still easily recognize your face… so simply wait in hiding."

"Don't worry, _Licenciado_, I know what to do," sighed Monastario. "Even if I still think it is pointless… I will carry on as planned."

So, the _commandante_ exited Pina's office and set off in his way.

The assumptions of their plan were simple: to check whether de la Vega's clumsiness and peaceful disposition were not in reality no more than an act. As it was certain that if the young man were the masked bandit, he would be certainly too clever to get easily provoked in the circumstances that could lead to his exposure, Pina decided they had to create the situation that would encourage him to reveal his true nature and abilities when he would believe to be unobserved.

For Monastario it seemed unnecessarily sophisticated, yet he didn't protest. Just in case.

It required sending the young man into the lonely travel and Pina again found the way – a small rancho that belonged to the de la Vega's, situated far behind the Mission San Gabriel Arcángel. With a bit of water and ink he carefully blurred its description in the archives… so that the new one had to be drawn up.

That's how Alejandro's son was made to travel for hours though the almost unattended road.

Sepulveda found the men – the men that were to attack the don at the set point. Monastario and Pina didn't ask who exactly they were and how the lancer happened to know them. They both only ordered Sepulveda the most severely to forbid them doing to the young man anything that could cause his death. The _licenciado_ was afraid of the consequences if Alejandro's son proved not guilty, and the _commandante_ wanted to deal with him alone, if the situation was be opposite. Apart from permanent damage, Sepulveda's men were allowed to do anything they found suitable to convince their victim his life was in danger – and force him to defend himself with all his strengths.

Finally, Monastario's part was to observe how skillful the young man can be while fighting for his life in the deserted area. He was unpleasantly surprised when the _licenciado_ advised him to change his uniform into something less eye-catching for this occasion… but he had to admit that the military uniforms were too easy to spot from the distance.

That was why now the _commandante_ for the first time was riding through the pueblo without raising anxiety of the passer-byes. One of the carriages passed so close to him, that it forced him off the road, into the cloud of dust raised by horses and wheels. Monastario grinded his teeth, trying to remember the coachman.

Then, however, he rode further to the highway. Far ahead of him he saw the little figure calmly throttling on the tawny horse. The _commandante_ fastened his mount, heading him through the hills. Resigning from the uniform was a nuisance, but at least now he didn't have to behave cautiously – even if the young man would see him from the distance, he would notice only some rider, hurrying through the wilderness…

The _commandante_ quickly rushed through the hills, soon leaving the highway and the rider on it far behind him.

The day was cooler than the last ones, the ride through the wilderness and wind - quite enjoyable and the _cuartel's_ horse – not as bad as he seemed at the beginning, so Monastario simply delighted the gallop, until few hours later he saw the highway again. His aim – the crossroads where Sepulveda's bandits should probably already be waiting – was no more than two miles ahead. The _commandante_ could now calmly reach the location, hide his mount, hide himself and wait… but he realized that there is still plenty of time till de la Vega will arrive. And if he stopped at the mission for dinner… oh, this could take hours!

_Am I now to lie in bushes and wait like a jackal, until this dandy will crawl here? _he thought with irritation. Maybe the whole plan was suitable for Pina's temper, but definitely not for Monastario's.

Luckily, there was a small tavern by the side of the highway just under the hill Monastario stood on. It looked rather lousy… but with the lack of any other entertainment… The _commandante_ quickly recalculated the time and decided he can calmly allow himself for a sip of wine.

* * *

When he entered the small, stuffy room and approached the counter, the inn-keeper only cast one quick glance at him and continued wiping the glasses. Monastario, used to becoming the center of attention in each place he visited, was so surprised that for a moment he just stood and waited. Not that the host was occupied with clients – the sala was almost empty, not counting for one man drowsing over the table near the entrance.

"Inn-keeper!" gnarled finally the _commandante_ leaning over the table.

"Wait a moment, Senor. I am busy," muttered impolitely the man behind the counter. "And do not yell here, or the only drink you will get will be the water from the well on the yard."

Monastario for a moment lost his breath and looked around in search for lancers to arrest the impudent mouthpiece.

And then he reminded himself that there are no lancers around and he is wearing a rather old, poor looking and dusty suit. Muttering some profanities under the nose he reached to his pouch and retrieved the coin tossing it high in the air and then hiding it in the pocket.

"And you hurry with your best wine or the only profit you will get today will be what my horse leaves on this yard," he retorted angrily, sitting by the table in the small alcove, in the farthest corner of the room – just to force the inn-keeper to make the longest way with his order.

The host looked at him gloomily, but immediately fetched the bottle of wine and even pretended to wipe the table with some sticky rag.

Monastario calmed himself after the first sip of wine. How was it possible that even in such mean hole the wine was so exquisite? Oh, California was indeed much more attractive than its opinion… After the second glass he stated that the whole adventure is not that bad. At least not that bad for the _commandante_, because for the young de la Vega the nearest future didn't look very cheerful: either he was going to finish substantially battered by Sepulveda's bandits, or not that battered – but accused of treason and sentenced to gallows…

_Either way he will stop showing off with this girl just under my nose, at least for some time… _thought Monastario with satisfaction. _I am getting tired with hearing his suave voice as he tries to charm her with some sickening compliments and… _

"Buenos dias, Senor! Would you be so kind to send someone to tend to my horse?" sounded serene greeting at the door.

Monastario stiffened and tried to squeeze himself into the wall. How was it possible? The man was hours too early! So he didn't visit the mission and, unless this palomino had wings hidden under the saddle, he didn't ride through the highway, and… oh, damn, now Monastario had no chances of leaving the room unnoticed!

Luckily the _commandante_ was well hidden in the alcove and the young man didn't look around, only leaned over the counter and friendly addresses the inn-keeper, who started at him as gloomily as at Monastario a moment before.

"Bad day, huh?"

"What do you care, Senor?" the man muttered angrily. "Do you want to eat here? To drink?"

"Just some water, if you please. I am rather in a hurry. I only stopped to give my horse a moment of rest in the shadow," replied de la Vega undiscouraged with the harsh reply.

Monastario sighed with relief. With the bit of luck, the dandy won't notice him in this dark corner. And as soon as he leaves, the _commandante_ will follow him – and still manage to witness the confrontation with the bandits…

De la Vega indeed quickly drank his water and put the mug back on the counter. He was already searching for some coins, when the doors slammed open and three new visitors entered to the sala. Or rather, burst in would be better expression.

Burst in with the pistols in their hands.

"Don't move, all of you!" yelled the first one, looked around and, having spotted the young man by the counter, pointed at the pouch he was keeping.

"You won't need it any longer."

_Damn, what idiots! _bridled Monastario. _Couldn't they understand the simplest order? They were to wait in hiding, attack the boy when he will be alone… and not ask for money! If he were the Fox… he would never risk exposure for a few coins!_

Just as he expected, de la Vega wordlessly handed the pouch to the robber.

"Now you, man!" the leader turned to the inn-keeper. "How much did you manage to squeeze today from your customers?"

_Of course, these fools wanted to use the occasion to rob the tavern! They spoilt everything, stupid greedy rascals! Oh, I'll make them regret, _silently cursed Monastario.

But the inn-keeper didn't reach for his takings, only tossed with fury the rag he was keeping on the floor and started to yell.

"_Malditos! _Yesterday your companions robbed my transport of wine and now you came for my money! You rotten rats! The hills are swarming with robbers like the carrion with the vermin and no one cares! Bastards! Let you get the itch from the first wench you meet! Let your…"

"Shut up and give the money or I will make you quiet forever!" shouted the bandit raising the pistol into the direction of the raging man.

"Leave him," stated quietly de la Vega, maneuvering himself between the robber and the scared inn-keeper.

Monastario straightened. Maybe these bandits didn't have such stupid idea after all. If that young one was a Fox… he certainly won't let the poor man be murdered in his presence. That was even better than attacking him alone. And there was indeed something strange in his voice…

"Leave him," repeated de la Vega. "You have in my purse more than enough to call it a day… Just go your way now."

The leader slowly turned toward him.

"Do we have a hero here?" he asked mockingly and eyed the young man cautiously. "A hero in a very nice suit." He checked the content of de la Vega's purse and raised his eyebrows. "A rich hero. What's your name, boy?" he inquired with sudden interest.

"I don't think I want to make an acquaintance with you, Senor," de la Vega shrugged his shoulders.

The robber with lightning speed grabbed the tail of the young man's jacket, pushed him toward the counter and pressed to his cheek the knife that suddenly replaced the pistol in his hand.

"Your name," he hissed. "Or you will have a very nasty scar on this pretty face."

Monastario, forgetting the caution, leaned in their direction to see the scene more precisely. That was the moment. If he was the Fox… if he really could fight… oh, that would be so easy, while the bandit was not keeping the pistol! To quickly grab his hand, twist it, throw him on his companions… That was what Monastario would do. Even if there were three attackers, there was a big chance… Three? Why, Sepulveda talked about two men…

A bit confused he leaned forward even further… and quickly flinched back, as his eyes almost met with the sight of de la Vega, who, stiffened in the bandits grasp, scanned the room with a scrutinizing glance.

_Damn, I hope he didn't notice me…_ cursed silently Monastario anxiously clinging to the wall.

However, the young man made no sign of noticing the _commandante_. He stopped looking around, sighed, swallowed loudly and finally replied through clenched teeth:

"Diego de la Vega." He didn't grab the bandit's hand, only tilted back over the counter as much as he could, his hands idly hanging by his sides.

"De la Vega?" continued the robber. "I heard about one very rich de la Vega, but he is much older."

"It is my father," muttered the don, throwing anxious glances at the knife pressed to his face.

"Father! This day is getting much better than expected. Surely your father values your life very highly! And if he doesn't know how high, we will tell him," mocked the bandit. "So, Senor Hero, as you wish, we will leave this brazen fool, but you will keep us company for a while. Don't worry, if your father pays quickly, you won't lose the hair from this nice head. Now, your weapon… oh, you do not have any? Check him, just in case" he grabbed de la Vega's arm and tossed him toward his companions, who started to search his jacket and sash. Monastario could see how the face of the young man darkened with anger, but he didn't make the slightest effort to free himself from their grasp.

_These fools were to threaten him, not to take him hostage… But anyway they fulfilled their role… If he could, he would certainly defend himself. No one has so much control to bear some filthy rascals tugging him… This licenciado and his absurd ideas, we lost so much time, whereas the real Zorro…_

Suddenly the robbers joined the other guest, about whom Monastario managed to forget, exposing himself as their accomplice.

"There is another one with the full purse. I saw the gold in his hands," he stated calmly, pointing at the direction of Monastario's alcove, where he remained unnoticed till now.

What these idiots are doing? Monastario stared stupefied as the leader approached him, again with the pistol in his hand.

And then, in the fractions of the second, he joined a few facts, coming to the very unpleasant conclusion.

There were four bandits instead of two.

They attacked in the wrong place.

They behaved in the wrong way.

These were not Sepulveda's bandits.

So, the _commandante_ was in troubles.

He got on his feet, quickly drawing out the blade, noticing fleetingly as de la Vega looked at him with anxiety. The bandit aimed at him with pistol, Monastario dodged, the bullet passing so close to his ear that he felt his hair moving in the blast. Nevertheless, he lunged forward in attack. His opponent jumped back, baring his blade and parrying the thrust. For a moment their rapiers entwined together, but the _commandante_ had no occasion for the next attack. In the corner of his eye he noticed that now only one man is keeping de la Vega with the pistol pressed to his side… and something dark blurred just beside him… he felt sharp pain in his head and the world went black.

* * *

This ride has been so… unsettling. He was galloping through the hills, it was night, there was no moon and no stars on the sky. _I will break my neck on the first hole_, thought Monastario with anxiety. Exactly in this moment his mount stumbled. Monastario though he was going to fall… but he remained safely in the saddle, whereas his horse… his pretty black horse… started to fly through the air. He sighed with relief not surprised even a little by the huge wings that appeared by the sides of his mount. The night's air was cool and soothing, yet his head was splitting with pain. He raised his hand rubbing his temple… but he felt no skin only some cold material. _Am I dead and wrapped in the shroud? _he wondered for a moment, _or is it the mask? Am I the Fox now?_

He looked at his hands and saw the black leather gloves. _I cannot return to the curatel,_ he realized. _The lancers are ordered to kill the Fox… What shall I do? _He wondered, looking at the trees by the sides of the road. Yes, he was now again at the road. It seemed familiar, but still he couldn't recognize it. Was it the road to the de la Vega hacienda? Oh, no, he knew already. It was not in California. It was in Spain. There was a house at the end of it… There was a house… But he wasn't welcomed there. _I need to hide, _he thought as the pain strengthened. _I need to hide and rest. Where is the home of the Fox? _

_He has no home, I burnt it, _he reminded himself. _I burnt it, and executed his family and I hung him. But he is still alive,_ he thought shaking his head in despair. _As long as people sing these damn songs he will be alive. _That was terrible. No one can kill the songs... "It is useless, _Capitán_!" he heard the well-known mocking voice and laughter. Monastario looked around. There was a moon now on the sky, and all the world became the playground of shadows. In the air sounded again the merry voice of the Fox "Search the shadows! All of them, everywhere! I will be there, _Capitán_!"

"_Capitán_? _Capitán_, wake up! Do you hear me? Open your eyes!" the voice became more and more insistent.

Monastario slowly opened his eyes. He tried to rise, but somehow didn't manage, so only glanced in the direction of the noise. No. It was not the Fox. It was de la Vega, leaning over him with a trace of anxiety on his face.

"You were knocked unconscious," explained the young man seeing Monastario's groggy sight. "It's been a few hours. I think you should try to stay awake now."

"I had a nightmare," gasped a bit deliriously Monastario, but then more consciously looked around at the dark, dirty walls of the unfamiliar room. "Where?..."

"Oh, we are in some old house, vinery or something… It must be the den of these bandits."

"Bandits?" Monastario for the first time noticed that his problems with moving are caused by the binds on his wrists and ankles.

"Yes, we were assaulted by the bandits on the western highway," explained patiently de la Vega.

The _commandante_ for a moment closed his eyes, trying to gather his scattered thoughts, slowly recalling the pictures of the last events. Yes, there was a trap, and there were bandits, only the wrong ones. Something with the trap went not as planned as well, as Monastario fell its victim together with de la Vega.

He glanced once again at the young man. His hands were bound too, but apart from this, his appearance was immaculate. Even if the bandits in the tavern tugged him a bit, he managed already to order his hair and clothes… the folds of his shirt were perfectly straight, the tie – carefully arranged and generally he looked rather calm and serene in spite of the circumstances.

_Well, nobody smashed his head, _though sneeringly Monastario,_ Why should they, he even didn't utter the word of protest!_

Then he thought again at the circumstances that led him to this situation and didn't manage to suppress desperate moan. _Him - the Fox!... Oh, that stupid lawyer!_ _I will kill Pina for getting me into this! _

"_Capitán_, how do you feel? Sleepy? Dizzy?" asked the young man with sincere concern.

_I feel like an idiot._

"I am fine," muttered Monastario in reply.

At the top of everything, he even couldn't recall the name of the man he was held captive with.


	7. Masqueraders 2

Monastario rested for a moment, his thoughts becoming clearer and clearer as the nightmare that has hauled him slowly fell into oblivion. The pain in his head became less insistent, turning into slight pulsing he could easily forget about.

Having shifted himself to a sitting position, he leant his back on the wall and took off his head the cold, wet rag. With a slight thanking nod toward de la Vega he asked almost with his usual, strong voice, taking the command of the situation:

"So, they held us captive here. Do you know what they want?"

"Oh, yes," nodded the young man. "As the matter of fact, nothing special. They want ransom."

"Ransom?..." Monastario repeated and almost choked with indignation. That was all because of this stupid suit! "They kidnapped me for money like… like some piece of cattle?... Oh! This scum!... They do not know who they messed with this time! If only…"

De la Vega stared at him as if he has just gone loco.

"If they knew who you are, they would hang you at the first tree by the highway," he said very gently.

The _commandante_ sneered angrily.

"Senor, you are not aware of the respect and fear that the army's uniforms awake," he replied with superiority. "They wouldn't dare to raise their finger, if they knew…"

"I believe you should rather thank your lucky star that you weren't wearing that uniform this time," de la Vega unmoved shrugged his shoulders, but then he eyed Monastario from behind his eyelashes, asking curiously: "By the way, what exactly have you been doing so far from the pueblo in such clothes?"

The _commandante_ was not prepared for this question. For a moment he desperately was searching for some innocent answer and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"I was visiting the friend."

"You have a friend?..." surprised innocently de la Vega, correcting himself quickly: "I mean, in such deserted area?..."

"I do," replied the _commandante_ with dignity.

"Oh," commented only the young man, but before he lowered his eyes, for a moment Monastario noticed merry sparks dancing in them. "Well, anyway, I told them you are Senor Sanchez from Los Angeles, an acquaintance of mine. When the money from my father arrives, we are both free."

"Your father?..." Monastario furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "But… I doubt that… I mean if he knew that it is me…"

"Don't insult us," interrupted him seriously the young man. "Whatever dealings there are between you and… and my father, you may be sure he would never let the bandits solve them."

_Oh, no, just not that! _Monastario almost moaned, realizing that the boy is right. Of course that Alejandro would help… even knowing that it is about the _commandante_. And that… oh, that was the worst nightmare he could imagine!

He would prefer to be helped by anyone else, anyone, even the Fox himself, only not Alejandro…

"Oh, I'd rather die than…" he started to curse, but young de la Vega stopped him airily:

"There is no need to get so irritated. The good news is that they took us a few long miles east. We are now quite near to our hacienda. And they already sent the note to my father, we should be home by sunset." He shifted a bit, examining the wall to find the cleanest part to back his shoulders and continued with pensiveness;

"Perhaps we will be home even a bit too early. I really would prefer to omit this… branding. Have you ever seen branding the cattle? That noise is horrifying," the young man almost moaned, closing his eyes. "And that smell… the smell of the…" he swallowed loudly, getting greenish, "burnt… ugh… skin…"

"Forgive me for not being sympathetic with your sensitivity, Senor, but right now…" Monastario cut him off with irritation when the lock in the door grated and into the room entered a broad-shouldered man in dark clothes. The _commandante_ immediately recognised the leader of the band and jerked, trying to stand up.

"I see our impetuous guest is awake!" guffawed the bandit.

"You dirty ruffian!" hissed Monastario. "I swear you will regret…"

"You will regret if you don't behave," snorted the man nearing to him.

Monastario angrily tugged the ropes on his wrists – in vain. The bandit laughed unpleasantly seeing his efforts.

"Not very comfortable, huh?"

"Oh, when I get you in my hands, I will show you comfort," the _commandante_ muttered through clenched teeth. "You have no idea who…" he started with fury, when suddenly de la Vega chimed in, calling to the bandit in a most fastidious voice:

"Don't chat with him, just bring us some food. And some blankets. These walls are dirty like in a pigsty. Maybe you are fine with such conditions, but definitely not me," he nagged.

The offensive superiority in his tone was clear even for the bandit, who turned to him, forgetting Monastario.

"I beg your pardon, Senor!" he exclaimed mockingly and raised his hand, striking the blow that sent the young man to the other side of the room. "Better now?" he chuckled maliciously.

"Sit quiet, both of you!" he ordered then harshly exited the room.

Monastario slowly let the air out of his lungs, calming a bit. He had to admit, that the anger almost made him behave very unreasonably. He was about to threaten the bandit with his position… and indeed it might not have been very wise, considering the circumstances. The _commandante_ realised that de la Vega, by his interjection, tried to help him… and for a moment he felt something close to gratitude.

Still, it didn't change the fact that the boy was terrible slouch.

_The Fox, indeed, _Monastario thought ironically seeing how the young man clumsily tried to crumble from the floor. _Even Garcia would manage to dodge…_

"Don't worry, Senor, you will survive it," he sighed indulgently. "It is no more than a bruise."

"Perhaps," muttered de la Vega carefully examining his cheek. "But I don't like bruises."

Monastario stopped paying attention to him, again reconsidering his current situation. The conclusion was not very optimistic.

"Damn!" he bridled angrily. "How is it possible that some ruffians maraud at roads in the middle of the day!"

"Don't ask me, you are the one in charge here," muttered the young man a bit cutting, still seeming to be very concerned with his cheek.

Monastario ignored him. The taunting of this dandy was nothing… but his father… oh, what joy Alejandro will have when he will see that he has ransomed the _commandante_! Monastario almost saw the dark eyes of the _haciendado_ sparkling with amusement. Oh, he will be rather polite, noble fool, offering all the care and assistance… Still he won't miss the occasion to let the _commandante_ know – with his haughty superiority – what he thinks about the officer who gets kidnapped by the common robbers like the lost child.

And as the final insult he will certainly offer his help in catching the bandits.

_I'd rather die…_ thought darkly Monastario once again, searching in desperation for some way out of this predicament.

Yet, he saw none. They were bound, locked and alone…

"Why have you travelled alone, Senor?" he turned to his companion with a reproach in his voice. "If you at least took your servant with you…"

"I thought he might be more needed at the hacienda. Obviously, I was mistaken," replied the young man with unreadable expression, adding after a while in a lighter voice: "Still, Bernardo wouldn't be of much help. He is a man crafty with iron, not with knife."

Knife! Monastario quickly leant and touched his left calf.

"What are you doing?" asked de la Vega seeing the wide smile on the _commandante's_ face.

"I still have my knife. We can get rid of these ropes in any second."

"What for?" the young man looked at him in confusion and Monastario mirrored his expression.

"To deal with these rascals, of course!" he exclaimed.

"What? But there is no need to! I told you that as soon as they got the money…"

"I am not going to sit idly here and wait, like the… like the lamb before the shearing! I am going to count with them with my own hands. So, this is what we do: as soon as we are free, we make the noise so that they open the doors, and then we take them one by one…"

"Ugh… we?..." de la Vega shyly interrupted his ardour speech.

Oh, damn. He forgot who he was talking to.

"Senor, I don't want you to fight with them," he started patiently, trying to sound trustworthy. "Just help me… to turn off their attention. I promise you will be safe."

"Ah… I am sure, but… well, I'd really rather not…" de la Vega wriggled confused and finally finished with an ashamed sigh. "I am sorry, but I'd rather simply wait."

Right now the _commandante_ would very much prefer being locked with the Fox.

"Please, Senor, aren't you man enough to deal with the robbers who mistreated you?" he asked angrily trying to play at the boy's ambition.

"Of course!" started the young man with the most ridiculous pride, but then added in pensiveness: "If there were not four of them, only two… or better one…"

"If there were two of them I wouldn't need your help!" gnarled Monastario and looked around in desperation searching for argument. Alone, he indeed had little chances. "Listen, Senor, think about your father," he said in his most suave voice. "He certainly would appreciate some display of courage from your part."

Ah – this time it seemed he hit the point. The young man didn't retort, only shivered and bit his lips. So, the _commandante_ continued eagerly:

"And your father himself would never sit idly in such situation!"

"He wouldn't get caught in the first place," muttered absently de la Vega, raising the hand to tug his ear. As he forgot that his hands are bound, the result was rather ridiculous.

"So, it is settled," stated merrily Monastario, trying to retrieve the knife from the leg of his trousers.

"No. I think we should wait," sounded suddenly decisive voice behind his back. "I won't help you."

Strange, but right now… in spite of saying what he said, de la Vega didn't sound like a coward.

And Monastario understood that he won't manage to persuade him to change his mind.

"All right, I'm going alone," he muttered giving up.

"But they will kill you!" the young man exclaimed almost impatiently. "You received a really strong blow to the head, you are in no condition to fight."

"I don't need… the conditions… to defend myself," gnarled Monastario.

"These are vengeful men, if you attack them, they won't care for money only kill you," insisted de la Vega. "I won't be able to help you then!"

"Just be quiet and let me act," Monastario ignored the warning tone of his companion, not casting further glance at him, only struggled to grasp the handle of the knife.

He heard da la Vega's resigned sigh behind him… and then all of the sudden the world went black again.

* * *

This time no nightmares haunted the _commandante_ and when he woke up it was like suddenly coming from darkness into light. For a moment he just laid and stared into the brightness in front of him, until he noticed that he is actually not looking at the light, only at the ceiling.

After a few more seconds he came to the conclusion that the ceiling is white.

Blurrily realising that he should do something more to define his current situation, Monastario stood up. As he moved, he felt the wave of the headache, but apart from this he suffered no other ailment. Having looked around, he realised that he is in some small, but nicely furnished room. The _commandante_ had never been here before, but one glance through the window at the well-known patio told him that he is in the de la Vega hacienda.

He had no idea what he was doing here.

Still staring blankly at the window, he heard some steps nearing to the door. Suddenly his mind started to work quickly: whatever happened, he must have been stunned in some way… and someone took care of him here… It was very probable that it was Senorita Peréz… After all, she was now the only woman at the hacienda, and weren't usually the women nursing the indisposed?... Perhaps she was now coming to check his state?

Monastario jumped to the bed again and lay still closing his eyes.

He heard someone entering the room and almost held his breath in anticipation, feeling that the visitor is leaning over him.

"So long?..." muttered the clearly anxious voice. Male voice.

Monastario immediately opened his eyes and rose, with irritated disappointment moving aside the young de la Vega.

"What am I doing here?" he demanded harshly.

The young man sighed with relief.

"_Capitán_, I was already getting afraid that… Well, don't you remember?" he took deep breath, patiently starting the story. "We were attacked by the bandits near the western highway. They took us as captive for ransom and…"

_What in the hell have I been doing at the western highway in such clothes? _wanted to exclaim Monastario, when the wave of memories flood over him. The trap, the bandits… he had a strange feeling of déjà vu. _Kill Pina for all this,_ he made a mental note.

"And now we are here?" the _commandante_ looked at the young man expectantly, noticing that he already changed into new clothes, clean and more elegant ones. He must also have taken care about his cheek very carefully, as now no more than a small bruise reminded about the punch he received. _El Zorro! _smirked Monastario. _Certainly it would be the first worry of the Fox after such adventure!_

"Oh, everything went well," explained de la Vega cheerfully. "They got the money and let us go. Quite nice of them to keep their word, don't you think, _Capitán_?"

"Nice?" hissed Monastario, "I'll tell you what will be nice: when I see them hanging in the middle of the plaza!"

"All right, all right," sighed the young man a bit weary. "Listen, _Capitán_, I have sent the information to the _cuartel_. There are already a few lancers waiting for you at the hacienda, to escort you to the pueblo, but stay here until you will be sure that you feel fine."

"Yet no longer than that," the harsh voice of Alejandro sounded at the door. The older don entered the room, threw reluctant glance toward the commandant and cautious one at his son:

"You are fine, Diego?" he asked.

Monastario opened his eyes wide with surprise. The clothes Alejandro wore indicated that he came from the rancho… It looked like he was seeing his son for the first time after their return… Was it possible that he didn't interrupt his work even after hearing that his son was kidnapped by the bandits?... The _commandante_ had no idea that the chasm between father and son went so far.

Oh, well. It is certainly not easy to be the son of such man as Alejandro. He demanded a lot, equally from himself and from others.

For a one small second, Monastario felt something close to compassion toward this boy. It is never easy to be the son of a demanding, too proud father.

"I am fine," replied the young man quietly, lowering his sight.

Alejandro stood in front of him for a moment, and, forgetting Monastario's presence, unwittingly raised his hand to the cheek of his son.

"It is nothing," said the young one, escaping his eyes with embarrassment.

Alejandro shivered, as if waking from some troubling dream.

"I can see it is nothing," he replied as harshly as before.

Determined to move the conversation from the personal level, the old _haciendado_ turned again to the _commandante_. Monastario with despair realised what he had to do. He took deep breath and, feeling very, very unhappy, stifled through clenched teeth.

"I have to thank you for your help, Senor."

"Don't," replied Alejandro straight into his face. "I would have done the same for anyone."

Monastario understood that for de la Vega the idea of being the object of the _commandante's_ gratitude is as repulsive, as for him – the idea of being forced to express one. Surprisingly, it made him feel a bit better.

"_Capitán_," Alejandro said with the accusatory note in his voice, obviously eager to return their relationships on their usually hostile terms: "Can you explain what you have been doing exactly at this place, in such… attire?"

Monastario took deep breath. Was this old fool now going to question him? Yet, the _commandante_ tried to control his anger and reply calmly:

"I was visiting the friend."

"What?" laughed Alejandro. "You do not expect me to believe it?"

"I do not have to explain myself to you, Senor," Monastario almost hissed.

"Let me just tell you, _Capitán_, that it is not very comforting for the citizen of this pueblo to hear that the officer appointed to guard its safety is so involved in his intrigues, that he is not even competent to protect his own safety," stated de la Vega with the same fire in his eyes, with which he usually ranted his tirades.

"Father, please," sighed his son. "That is not necessary."

"And _Capitán_," continued de la Vega not caring for the shy protest of his son, "if you need some help in dealing with the bandits harassing the neighbourhood, you should tell it to the _cabildo_. We will of course provide you with any support available."

"Father…" repeated his son a bit louder. Monastario was to dizzy with fury to respond.

"All right, I will leave you," nodded Alejandro and headed for the door.

Already keeping his hand on the knob, he hesitated and he turned again to his son, now the regret clearly written on his face.

"I am sorry Diego, I would only feel much better knowing that you can take care about yourself," he stated with some bitter softness and left the room.

Monastario didn't pay attention, only for a moment choked with anger and humiliation. He had to do something to regain his dignity – and he had to do it now.

"Senor, you should remember better the location of the den of these rascals," he said harshly to the young de la Vega. "If there are some lancers at the hacienda, I am going there immediately. You will show us the way."

The young man opened widely his eyes, the _commandante's_ proposition certainly very much not to his liking.

"But _Capitán_, why such rush? You should rest now. Me too. I am going to take some nap now… And I will send you some chilled wine… or maybe you prefer juice or water? You may chase them tomorrow."

"I believe you have already had enough rest for both of us, Senor. Now, you might take us there."

"_Capitán_, you shouldn't strain yourself," insisted de la Vega. "I told you – you have received a really nasty knock at the head and one should be cautious with such things."

Monastario only shrugged his shoulders.

"I am fine, I was fine even after I woke up… Wait…" he suddenly hesitated on the troubling realisation. "I woke up at this vinery, so how…"

He woke up, he talked with this boy for a long time and felt quite fine. How did he exactly finish unconscious for the second time? How was it? He decided to retrieve his knife to cut the ropes and then…

He grasped young man's shirt, pushing him against the wall.

"It was you!" he yelled. "You knocked me there!"

"What?... Why should I?" stuttered de la Vega utterly surprised, looking straight at Monastario's eyes with deepest confusion.

He looked so innocent that the _commandante_ hesitated.

"So, what happened?" he asked a bit gentler. "How can you explain that just all off the sudden…"

"You fainted!" exclaimed the young man with desperation. "Yes, just all of the sudden! I told you that you had a concussion!"

Monastario stared at him for a moment and slowly let go the grasp on him.

He touched the back of his head – it pained like hell, still, it might have been a bruise from the blow he received in the tavern.

After all – why should this boy stun him, even providing that he would be capable to such violent behaviour?

"And now, _Capitán_…" de la Vega, seeing that the _commandante_ gives up, with obvious irritation corrected his shirt and tie, "Now, my patience has its limits too. You are not the only one who had the hard day. I was riding through some dusty, hot road, then I was assaulted and battered by some rascals, kept in dirty cellar in your rather troubling company and after all that I have to deal with my father's reproaches and your accusations!" he shook his head, trying to correct the hair falling on his temple. "Well, I have enough! I am not going to ride with you and your lancers anywhere, I am just going to my room to do something… relaxing."

In spite of the circumstances, Monastario had to bite his lips not to burst out with laughter. Well, if that dandy usually looked a bit funny, in the outburst of outrage he was simply hilarious. He let the boy go, knowing already how decisively he can defend his rest.

He will find that vinery alone. It was somewhere east from the highway… Surely this brazen inn-keeper will know something about possible location.

"Oh, by the way, _Capitán_," de la Vega maliciously looked at him from the door, "before you start the hunt for these men, you should at least change your clothes. It is really…" he chuckled slightly, "well, it is not your colour."

_I won't stay here any second longer, _thought Monastario exiting the room. At the patio, he saw the back of de la Vega heading for his room, in the company of his servant. The young man didn't even cast one glance at Monastario's direction. Yet, he must have notified the lancers, as the small group of men in uniforms ran into the patio from wherever they have been waiting… and whatever they have been doing.

Well, judging from Garcia's languorous expression and a jacket a bit stained with wine it was not hard to guess what they were doing.

Seeing Monastario, the sergeant halted so abruptly, that the lancers behind him collided with his back. Two of them landed on the ground, yet they all didn't try to gather themselves only started at the _commandante_'s suit with opened mouth.

"Ca… _Capitán_?..." stuttered Garcia. "You left the army?…" he asked disbelievingly, but also with a slight glitter of hope slowly lighting up his chubby face.

"Silence," hissed Monastario.

The sergeant wavered back and two more lancers leaning on his back landed on the ground.

"To the horses, idiots!" yelled the _commandante_ and the soldiers, suddenly finding the well-known ground again, started to move.

"These bandits didn't return your mount, _Capitán_," Garcia neared to him, keeping his eyes low on the ground, carefully avoiding the smallest glance at Monastario's clothes, "but Don Alejandro said we can take for you the one from his stables, so if you allow…"

"No," cut him off Monastario.

He certainly didn't want to take Alejandro's horse.

Besides… he looked in the direction of the young de la Vega's room. Even at the yard he could hear some strumming at the guitar. To be honest, it was terrible. He never heard anyone playing out of tune so awfully.

Still… just in case… Of course it was absurd, but just in case…

"I'll take the horse from Sepulveda and he will wait here till we send him another from the _cuartel_," ordered Monastario.

* * *

When they reached the _cuartel_, Monastario didn't even allow the lancers to dismount – he only rushed to his quarters and quickly changed into the uniform.

Then they galloped through the hills near the western highway, till the inn. Its owner disappeared somewhere, but one of the kitchen maids headed them to some old vinery, few miles east from there.

It was already dark when they reached the place, but the small fire in front of it was still burning, indicating the presence of the bandits.

Monastario ordered the lancers to quietly surround the location and then, having decided that the bandits must be asleep as no suspicious sound came from the vinery, gave the sign to attack.

They burst into the ruined building through the doors and windows' holes, the _commandante_, hungry for vengeance, leading the lancers... and stopped, surprised by the most unusual picture in front of their eyes.

Four bandits, bound and gagged, two of them still stunned and two groggily regaining conscience, laid in the middle of the room… and on the wall behind them there was clearly visible a big, black letter "Z".

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" yelled Monastario.

* * *

_He won't hit me. He knows I wouldn't retaliate, so it would be beneath him, _consoled himself Pina, trying to look as small and inconspicuous as he only could, when Monastario raged and yelled, pacing through his office like the mad tiger. _He can arrest me, true, but it is too late for execution. It would have to wait till morning… and perhaps till morning he will calm himself a bit… _Pina took deep breath gathering his confidence and straightened, but in this moment Monastario made a step in his direction and he curled again to the wall.

"Because of this absurd scheme of yours I came through the worst humiliation in my life!"

"I am sorry. It didn't go as planned," muttered Pina.

_I guess it is not the good moment to remind him, that none of this would have happened if he didn't guzzle the wine in this tavern._

"Not as planned! Easy for you to say! You were not the one knocked around by some rascals!"

_Well, my bandits were patiently waiting at the crossroad, as ordered. Oh, I guess I am lucky enough he is not accusing me of collusion with this band…_

"And I am starting to wonder if it really was only a misfortunate coincidence," started venomously Monastario nearing slowly to the _licenciado_.

Pina couldn't get into the wall any deeper.

Luckily in this moment someone knocked into the door.

"Enter!" yelled Monastario and Sergeant Garcia, suddenly very aware of the proper way of entering his superior officer's quarters, shyly picked into the room.

"_Capitán_, the bandits are in the cells, we are done with everything. Can I dismiss the men to rest?... And myself too?..."

"I hope these rascals aren't too comfortable?" asked knowingly the _commandante_.

"Oh, no, they aren't," muttered the sergeant with vengeful sparks in his usually kindly eyes. "They will have the lesson for mistreating honest people."

Somehow, Pina had the impression that Garcia wasn't referring to the _commandante_.

"So, you are relieved," ordered Monastario. "But tomorrow, the first thing in the morning, you will go to the de la Vega hacienda, with the money we retrieved and this palomino horse. You will tell Alejandro we crushed this band..."

"We did?.. I thought that Zorro…" surprised the sergeant, but seeing the scowl on Monastario's face he whispered quickly: "Si, _Capitán_," and disappeared.

Pina for a moment forgot that he had to be small and inconspicuous.

"Zorro?... He caught them?" he asked hectically. "Don't you think that it is suspicious? How did he manage to find their hiding? Why did he attack them exactly after they kidnapped de la Vega? Isn't it…"

"Do you take me for a complete idiot?" hissed Monastario turning to him. "Do you think I would neglect it? So listen: when I left the de la Vega hacienda, I asked Sepulveda to wait there and watch the boy. And he was sitting in his room the whole afternoon. You see – I do not need your silly plans to find out the truth."

"He might have sneaked out somehow, when Sepulveda wasn't watching…" Pina shook his head, but Monastario only snickered with the impatient anger:

"He was playing some damn guitar all the time! That cat's music was heard everywhere at the hacienda!"

So. That was the proof. Zorro was in one place and de la Vega in another.

"Oh. So… it is not him. I was wrong," whispered Pina. For a moment, he was torn between relief and disappointment. Some part of him liked this friendly man, he didn't want to see him hanged. And he also didn't want to learn that the same man who smiled to him so sincerely was also able to threaten him with the blade.

On the other hand, it was very uncomfortable to be proved wrong.

And besides… besides…

When he imagined young de la Vega as the spineless fop and cowardly idler he appeared to be… no, there was something wrong in this picture.

"Of course it is not him!" exclaimed Monastario, unaware of Pina's confusion. "Now I can't see why I have ever listened to you! We are done with this and if I ever hear you once again suggesting something so absurd, I will start to believe…"

Oh, forget the picture. Right now, the only problem Pina really cared for was how to get out of Monastario's office alive.

"_Capitán_, don't you think you should rest?" suggested the _licenciado_ in the most polite voice. "It will be a long day tomorrow, you remember that Don Alfredo gives a party and we are all invited?"

"And what do I care for some stupid party?" Monastario shrugged his shoulders. "I am not coming. What for? To let de la Vega mock me again? He will certainly be there."

"Yes, he will, and his guests too. You will finally have the occasion to meet your girl in person," suggested temptingly Pina, seeing with relief as the _commandante_ immediately forgets de la Vega, the bandits and the scowling he was giving to the _licenciado_.

"You are right. I am coming," he said quickly with a dreamy smile.

* * *

Don Alfredo was the meek one, he usually invited everyone to remain on friendly terms with both the _haciendados_ and the army. As the result, his parties belonged to the most stormy and querulous.

This time, however, the evening promised joyous and calm. Monastario was not in the mood to quarrel, he ignored a few mocking greetings and looks from the _haciedandos_ and looked around in the search of the pretty face of Senorita Peréz. Unfortunately, he couldn't spot her in the crowd; instead he came across the small group of chatting rancheros, with Don Alfredo among them. The host of the party immediately invited him to the conversation. Though it was the last thing the _commandante_ came here for, he stopped for a moment.

"We heard you crushed the band of robbers, _Capitán_?" asked politely Don Alfredo and Monastario managed to smile proudly, when Alejandro de la Vega chimed in, joining their circle:

"And we heard also that when you… crushed them, there was something written on the walls of their hiding? Was it a big letter Z, or am I mistaken?"

"This mysterious bandit is becoming useful," observed calmly Don Cornelio.

"Senor, are you announcing your backing for the outlaw?" bridled Monastario.

Don Alfredo calmingly raised his hand:

"Let's not speak about this strange man… Right now the only thing that concerns me is the coming cattle market. I hope that it will go better than the last one."

"True, there weren't many traders…" nodded Alejandro. "Probably because it is so dangerous at the roads, the merchants are afraid to travel."

"Yes, but isn't it strange that there were so many attacks? Traders with money always drew the interest of the robbers. They know how to cope with risk! And this time? Some were robbed, some resigned from travel, there were almost no buyers at the market!" exclaimed Don Alfredo with desperation. "If that repeats next week, I don't know what I will do."

"Why?..."

"Well, you know, the season is dry… There may not be enough water in the wells… I have to sell a part of the drove, otherwise they will die anyway…"

"Oh, don't worry. We will cope somehow, together," Alejandro calmingly patted his shoulder.

Monastario wriggled impatiently. Right now he perfectly understood why the young de la Vega was so reluctant to participate in his father's conversations. Listening to the talk about the cattle might be the most fascinating way of spending the evening for the rancheros, but definitely not for the _commandante_… He looked around and finally managed to notice… well, not the senorita herself, but her corpulent duenna.

Yet, the lady was not in the companion of the pretty girl… only of Garcia and Reyes.

Monastario stared at them surprised with uncommon social engagement of his lancers. Usually, when they had an occasion to participate in such events, they concentrated on drinking wine and singing in their own company. And this time… They did their best to assist the lady, offering her wine and other refreshments, chatting and smiling… Well, Garcia was chatting. Reyes was only listening to them with the glass in his hand. However, he did his best to change his sleepy expression into the polite one.

Only when the lady was not looking, the two lancers exchanged gloomy glances behind her back. Reyes made a small step back, as if he wanted to escape and Garcia stopped him, raising the clenched fist. Then the lady giggled with slumbered sight and Garcia bowed to her, doing his best to grimace in the same expression.

Monastario had very bad feelings about it.

He decided to search for Senorita Peréz in more private corner.

His intuition was right - just as he was to enter the shadowy garden, he fell into Alejandro's son, obviously returning from some small walk… and yes, the beautiful senorita was with him.

Monastario swallowed the anger and jealousy and welcomed the young man as the best friend:

"Buenos dias, Senor! How do you enjoy the evening?" he asked throwing glances toward the girl.

"I was enjoying it quite well…" de la Vega muttered with a sigh, but had little choice than proceed with the presentation. "I believe you didn't have an occasion to meet our guests... _Capitán_ Monastario, who has the ungrateful role of being the _commandante_ of the pueblo," he said with the merry sparkle in his eyes. "_Capitán_ – Senorita Anna Peréz, from Santa Barbara, whom, with her father, we have now the honour of hosting at the hacienda."

"At your service, Senorita," bowed Monastario with the most courtesy he could present, yet the girl only giggled and looked curiously at her companion:

"Why is that role so ungrateful, Diego? I thought it should be very responsible task…"

"Oh, it is because the actions of our _capitán_ rarely are welcome with gratitude by the citizens," explained de la Vega winking.

Monastario heard the stifled chuckle behind him and turned back, just to see Sergeant Garcia in the company of Corporal Reyes. He scowled at them sternly, but the sergeant kept looking at them with relief, as if he just met the most wished for companion.

"Sergeant! Where is Dona Imelda?" asked Anna Peréz with a hint of anxiety.

"Oh, she is just over there… talking…" muttered the Sergeant, pointing at the other part of the patio, toward the small group of chattering ladies. Dona Imelda caught his sight immediately and wiggled her fingers waving to him with very encouraging expression.

The lancer shivered and made small step in another direction.

"I hope you are having a good time, Don Diego," he said in a bit accusatory tone.

"I do, my dear Sergeant. But I see that you shouldn't complain too. You have very worthy company, you shouldn't neglect it," said de la Vega, discreetly nodding toward the duenna and, when Garcia hesitated, urged him almost pleadingly: "Well, Sergeant?…"

Garcia sighed and slowly walked toward the duenna, expressing such the ardour and will as if he was entering the gallows.

Senorita Peréz giggled slightly.

As in this moment the music began to play again, Monastario decided to use the occasion, and quickly bowed to her.

"Senorita, would you allow me to invite you…"

"Certainly you are not going to dance, _Capitán_?" chimed in de la Vega, with his voice nothing but sincere concern. "You should be more careful and not strain yourself after you were beaten by these bandits…"

"Some bandits assaulted you, _Capitán_?" asked the senorita with fright in her voice… though somewhere behind it hid a small giggle.

"They are all imprisoned at the _cuartel_ now. And I was not beaten, it was only one unhappy strike," retorted angrily Monastario, torn between the urge to yell at de la Vega for his insulting remark and need to behave politely in the presence of the lady.

"_Capitán_, maybe it was only one blow, but it made you unconscious for almost the whole day!" exclaimed the young man as innocently as before. "I think that in the future you shouldn't leave the _cuartel_ alone. And now, it would be wiser if you rest… oh, perhaps with the _alcalde_ and his friends," he finished pointing at the _alcalde_ sitting on the wooden bench in the company of some senile old men and swept the senorita gently leading her to the dancing floor.

Monastario just stared behind him with widely opened eyes. Yes, this dandy just made him look like the clumsy, helpless coward. Him. That was just… to unfair!

The _commadante_ thought gloomily that the young de la Vega is just advancing rapidly on the list of the Los Angele's citizens Monastario hated most. Very rapidly.

As the matter of fact, right now he was very near the third place. Just after his father and the Fox.

Speaking about Alejandro… just as Monastario turned back to leave the place of his failure, he almost brushed at the _haciendado_ and his friend standing under the wall and watchfully observing the scene.

"Alejandro, why were you complaining that your son is so… languid?" asked Senor Peréz with pensiveness. "He seems to be full of life… and initiative."

"Yes, this is a very strange change…" replied Alejandro. "I have no idea… or rather I have an idea…" he finished with amusement in his voice and the two friends chuckled knowingly.

Monastario thought he hates parties.

* * *

"When this toad returns, you will ask her to dance, Corporal," Sergeant Garcia's nervous voice sounded in the air.

_Licenciado_ Pina long circled around the guests and couldn't find the place or the conversation he would like to join. Finally, he retreated into the darkness of the garden, to think for a moment calmly and reason with unreasonable fears, bad premonitions, unsettling feelings… that some things went wrong and some others will go even worse.

Now he stopped quietly and listened the lancers unnoticed.

"I cannot dance," replied Reyes, sounding sleepy but decisive.

"Yes you can!" exclaimed the sergeant. "I saw you dancing in the tavern with Maria!"

"With Maria I can dance. I cannot dance with Dona Imelda."

Pina heard Garcia crushing some branches when he straightened with indignation:

"Corporal, it is not the matter of entertainment! It is the matter of friendship!" in his voice sounded so much reproach, as if Reyes refused to die with his companions on the battle field.

"If it is the matter of friendship, you dance with her, Sergeant," answered Reyes unmoved. "I pay for my wine myself."

"I cannot dance with her anymore! She has already started to ask me where my parents live!" there was a hint of panic in the sergeant's voice. After a moment he added with desperation: "I won't give you the night shifts for the next two weeks."

"Last time you promised me no night shifts, you said later that the _capitán_ changed the schedule."

"Corporal! How dare you accuse your superior of…" suddenly the sergeant jerked back into the bushes so abruptly that he almost broke the small tree. "Oh, she is coming… All right, what do you want?"

Reyes slowly whispered something, Garcia muttered "all right, all right" and pushed him into the lights of the patio.

Pina for a moment looked with a smile as the corporal reluctantly started to walk toward some corpulent lady, in which he recognised the duenna of Senorita Peréz.

That brought to his mind young de la Vega. _We made a mistake, true, _he repeated. _But nothing happened. We only lost some time, that's all. The real Fox didn't come up with any intrigue in the meantime… De la Vega knows nothing about the suspicions and even if he knew – so what?_

And still, what if the _licenciado_ felt so bad, because of the remorse for suspecting the boy unjustly? Why, after all, nothing happened to him… yet, he decided that he would like to chat with the young man for a while – just to make sure he has no grudge.

It took him rather long to find the young man, and when he finally spotted him in some smaller room at the back of the hacienda, the circumstances were not conducive to conversation: de la Vega kept the guitar of his knees and played something… and Senorita Peréz was listening with very warm smile.

Pina withdraw discreetly with a silent chuckle. _It seems that the big disappointment will meet Enrique quite soon!_ he thought maliciously. _Of all the people in Los Angeles, he will lose exactly to this man, of whom he despises so much…_

Suddenly he hesitated.

_Why Enrique said that de la Vega cannot play the guitar? He was playing better then well in my opinion._

For a moment he just stood in confusion. But… if not de la Vega, who else could have played in his room yesterday? Not his servant, he is deaf… And no one else entered the room, Sepulveda was certain of it.

_Oh, soldiers simply do not like any music, _he thought finally shrugging his shoulders. _And Enrique is jealous of him, he always speaks about him with contempt._

It was perhaps very unreasonable, but when Pina saw the young de la Vega so innocently preoccupied with some girl, he felt a bit relieved. Things were happening in Los Angeles in their usual, leisurely pace, people went through their petty joys and worries, and nothing was too serious or too threatening… All the dramas were outside the gently lit hacienda, with merry pairs dancing on the patio or hiding in the garden.

Yes, there was the masked Fox somewhere in the far darkness, but not here. This colourful, talkative crowd was the community he didn't belong to.

And yes, there were these strange men from Santa Barbara, with so mysterious goals… It was certain, that they will return. Still, not today.

Pina almost smiled, taking the glass with wine from the tray and dived into the crowd of guests.

* * *

On the next day, the wave of the cooler air was over and the unbearable heat returned. Monastario in his quarters spent a long time in front of the mirror, savouring his reflection in the uniform. Yet, he didn't even manage to cross the _cuartel's_ yard when he felt the first trickles of sweat on his neck and had to admit that even the uniform could be a bit uncomfortable in some temperatures.

He stopped for a moment in the gate, throwing one glance at the bandits in the cells. It was the highest time he decided what to do with them. Of course, at first he planned the most public execution. However, it would involve also the confession, the last words, and so on, all these tedious rituals that even Monastario had to respect… All in all, the prisoners would have to be ungagged – and each time their mouth were free, they started to mock the _commandante_ in the meanest, the most undignifying way.

Yes, something should be done about them. Yet, now it was too hot to think.

Corporal Reyes was contemplating Zorro's wanted poster with the most concentrated and content expression. Monastario couldn't see it clearly, but he would swear that there was something more at this poster than before. A drawing?... The _commandante_ furrowed his brows, but it was too hot to examine anything more precisely.

It was even too hot to go to the tavern.

In the middle of the plaza he turned back and headed again toward the _cuartel_, to seek the shelter from the heat in its thick, cool walls. At the yard, Sergeant Garcia, who was just cleaning his uniform from some dark stains – was it paint? – seeing the _commandante_, straightened and neared to him:

"_Mí Capitán_, you have a guest. A lady, Senorita Peréz," he reported and when, Monastario for a moment stood surprised, having misunderstood his silence as not recognizing the name of his visitor, added explaining: "The one who is fiancée of Don Diego de la Vega."

"What? They are betrothed?" exclaimed Monastario with disappointed grimace.

"I am not sure, that's what people say," muttered the sergeant, quickly withdrawing himself out of the range of the _commandante's_ sigh.

_People talk rubbish! _bridled Monastario. _They have nothing to do but prattle some nonsenses!_

Then, remembering his guest, he quickly jumped to his office.

"Senorita? It is an unexpected honour," he said with a bow.

The girl, who was modestly sitting on the guest chair in front of his desk, welcomed him with a bow.

And then she looked at him.

No, she didn't giggle this time. She smiled and this smile made Monastario's heart shiver and legs weaken.

"What can I do for you?" he asked with certain difficulty, hardly suppressing the trembling of his voice. "I will gladly serve you in any way…"

"Gracias, _Capitán_, but I am here because of something I can do for you," she replied in quiet, but steady voice.

Monastario thought he should try to regain his composure and reason, before he totally compromised himself. He slowly walked toward his desk and sat behind it.

"What do you mean, Senorita?" he asked struggling to concentrate on the conversation.

"Let's just say I am your last chance, _Capitán_," said Anna Peréz with the most charming smile.

Then she retrieved from her small bag the eagle's feather and smoothly placed it on the desk in front of Monastario.


	8. The pretty intrigue 1

**The pretty intrigue (1)**

"Buenos Dias, _Licenciado_!"

Pina was so tired after the whole night's work, that when the merry greeting suddenly sounded just behind him, he jerked, jumping back and a few papers from the pile he was keeping slipped on the ground.

"Oh, I am sorry," apologized the young de la Vega, helping him to gather the scattered pages.

"What's that? More of illegible records needing to be revised?" he asked with shadow of irony.

"No, Senor. Just some documents the _capitán_ ordered to be prepared," replied reluctantly Pina, quickly taking the papers from his hand.

He kept feeling very uncomfortable around the young man. Whether it was because of the remorse for the troubles that Pina's accusations drew on his head, or because of some blurry associations that persistently haunted the _licenciado's_ mind – he couldn't tell. Still, now he only wanted to leave as soon as possible.

However, de la Vega stood up, brushing some invisible trail of dust from his trousers and threw the curious glance at the big rolls Pina was keeping under his arm and continued the conversation.

"You know how to copy the maps, _Licenciado_? That's a rare ability," he commented appraisingly.

"No, they weren't drawn by me," Pina shook his head. "These are some spare copies I found for the _capitán_ in the archives."

"Really? And what for the _capitán_ needs them now?"

Pina shrugged his shoulders. He was not only tired, but also confused, scared and anxious. And he simply had enough of… of everything.

"I have no idea," he answered only with a sigh.

And he was speaking the truth.

Seeing that the young man was observing him watchfully, evidently startled by the _licenciado's_ strange reply, Pina bowed to him shortly and quickly continued his way toward the _cuartel_.

The massive building looked unusually friendly. The big gate was widely open - there was no reason now why it should be closed – and the walls, since Monastario ordered to refresh the paint on them, shined merrily in the sun.

The yard – carefully swept, with all usual rubbish removed – was almost empty and the doors from Monastario's office were ajar as well. Pina stopped for a moment at the threshold, hearing some strange noises… like rattling... or moaning… The _licenciado_ slowly neared to the desk and gently knocked on its top. After a few more moans and quiet curses – and one loud bump at the wooden top – from under the desk emerged at first the rear part of the biggest soldier in the _cuartel…_ and then whole Sergeant Garcia, red, sweaty and with the dust rag crumbled out.

"I have the documents for the _capitán_," said Pina and the lancer immediately nodded.

"Yes, he told me you would come, _Licenciado_. These papers are to be put in his personal quarters," he said handing him the key.

"And where is the _capitán_? At the patrol again?" asked casually Pina, entering Monastario's bedroom.

"Si, _Licenciado_. In such pace soon we will have to visit other districts to find some bandits… because ours will be either caught or run away," the sergeant muttered under his nose… but the hint of pride in his tone was easy to hear.

Whether it was because of the _commandante's_ unhappy adventure with the bandits, or by any other reason, Monastario recently started to chase most relentlessly all the robbers and desperados in his district. He was rather successful and the cells in the _cuartel_ were finally full not of peons who couldn't afford the taxes, or merchants who yelled aloud some profanities after the lancers destroyed their stalls – but with real evildoers.

The strange change in the _commandante's_ behaviour that started just after the misfortunate incident when they tried to prove the innocence – or the guilt – of the young de la Vega slowly influenced the whole situation at the pueblo.

For example, the _cabildo_ gradually ceased to oppose Monastario, though all its members observed his actions with surprise mixed with anxiety. Even Torres and de la Vega stopped their usually so loud protests – as there was nothing to protest against – and concentrated on their ranchos and cattle.

With the tension eased, the mood in the whole pueblo became a bit more cheerful and many festivities were organized. Monastario participated in all of them, always cheerful and charming – and almost polite.

There were no quarrels, no arrests, no floggings. Even the Fox didn't show his masked face. Why should he?

All in all, Los Angeles suddenly became a model pueblo with the model _commandante_.

_Saints be praised, miracle has happened, changed the unrepentant hearts and we will all live now long, in peace and happiness, _thought Pina with cold irony.

He was never the one eager to trust in the unexpectedly lucky turn of events. And even if he did, the documents Monastario recently wanted him to prepare would substantially undermine his faith.

Why did the _commandante_ need the list of all _haciendados_, the acreage of their lands, the numbers of their droves, the taxes their paid?… Why did he need the precise maps of Los Angeles and the lists of merchants?...

"You know all this, and if you do not remember, I can find you a specific record. Why do you want all these lists?" asked one day Pina a bit angrily after the next night he spent over his desk.

"I want to have it all in one document. New regulations," replied evasively the _commandante_.

That was strange. Never before had Monastario bothered to lie to the _licenciado_.

Pina placed the documents and maps on the small table near Monastario's bed and was to exit the room, when the outburst of merry laughter behind the window drew his attention. He peeked through the pane just to see the de la Vegas and their guests, taking their places in the carriage.

Pina heard the despondent sigh of the sergeant who stepped to the next window. Oh, yes. The poor fatty lost his drinking buddy. In the model pueblo, even its official jester, the young de la Vega, did his best to become the model son. He stopped spending the whole days in the tavern and sleeping till midday, and if he appeared at the pueblo – it was only in the company of his father or the pretty Senorita Peréz.

"I have bad feelings about this," sighed the sergeant looking gloomily at the young man and lovely lady sitting by his side.

"Me too, Sergeant," replied Pina with unusual sincerity casting the quick glance at the papers he put on Monastario's desk.

* * *

Monastario shortened the reins of his horse, halting him at the crossroads to let the lancers catch up with him. When he looked in their direction, for a moment he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Not only had they followed him eagerly with an ardour not disturbed by the few hours of exhausting ride but also… well, he had the impression that sometimes he caught some strange… expression in their glimpses directed at him… like devotion?...

True. Recently people in Los Angeles stopped hiding at the view of the lancers' uniforms and spitting behind them after getting at the safe distance. Probably they were grateful that the soldiers, instead of arresting them, started to arrest the bandits.

Probably the lancers were grateful to Monastario. Who wouldn't prefer to be considered a hero than a villain?

Even the _commandante_ received a few cautious congratulations. The _haciendados_ he talked to complimented him for clearing the neighbourhood from the persistent bandits and pleaded that he would contribute to getting rid of this plague on merchant trails, as recently the impudence of the robbers seriously disturbed the trade.

Some of them really looked at him with hope.

What a misunderstanding.

Monastario smirked, shaking his head. Cattle trade, indeed! That was exactly his first worry, to pamper the droves and purses of these arrogant, presumptuous fools!

Yes, he did take care about the bandits nesting near the pueblo. After his last so humiliating adventure, he needed vengeance… and as the prime and main reason of his frustration, the infamous black Fox, seemed to vanish in the thin air, he had to satisfy himself with such mean substitute as the common _desperados_.

Besides, he simply had to occupy himself with something… when the scope of his usual activities, his previous plans and intrigues, narrowed rather abruptly.

_Do not quarrel with the council, _repeated Anna. _Make peace with the haciendados. Try to be a little friendly during the fiesta, will you?... It means not arresting anyone. And you should show some recognition to Don Alejandro… at least do not insult him too directly._

This was the advice suitable to the gentle disposition of the fairer gender… but then pretty Anna smiled in a way that was all but gentle and continued quietly:

_Lull their watchfulness. The stake is higher than some petty disputes with the senile alcalde of the dusty pueblo. Play along, so that the benefit of surprise would be ours when we strike._

In such moments Monastario usually intended to object with irritation. His dealings here weren't "petty". And if he had to make peace with the _cabildo_, he would like to know more about the reasons. For example, who, how and when is going to "strike". But always before he managed to voice his objections, Anna Perez repeated more softly: _Just do not quarrel with them. If you do, it will be even more difficult for us to meet and talk… _

So he didn't quarrel. He only gathered the lancers and chased the robbers, to kill the long hours separating him from the next time he would see her…

Of course the _commandante_ wasn't some naïve fool, falling under the charm of the fair face like a youngling… Of course. He clearly realised why Senorita Peréz is so eager to honour him with her company.

_They think they are so witty, these feather-plotters… After the first two rascals failed, they sent a pretty girl hoping I will be more lenient with her._

_Idiots. No one is going to play such tricks on me._

Though, he had to admit that Anna Peréz was not only pretty and charming, but also very clever. At first he agreed to listen to her just to have an occasion to look at her, but soon he noticed that she has a lot of very interesting ideas.

Like with the bandits. Instead of hanging them, she advised him to sell them to the mine owner for penal works. She even happened to know the suitable men eager to cooperate with the _commandante_.

Or the rancheros. Monastario, with all his spies and all his cunning, through all these months he spent in Los Angeles, didn't gather so much information about its prominent citizens as this girl during the few weeks she was staying here. The _commandante_ decided that it must be thanks to all these parties she attended… and gladly listened to the gossips she shared with him.

Sometimes she counselled him even on the direction of his patrols. That was very strange – what could the fair girl know about the possible hiding of some filthy bandits? Still, he usually listened to her, not minding to follow the whims of a pretty lady.

Speaking about whims, once or twice she demanded something he didn't understand at all, like releasing some ruffians he just caught… She avoided giving any explanations, so Monastario only shrugged his shoulders and fulfilled her wishes.

So, when he considered it more carefully, he had to admit that there were a lot of issues in which he used Anna's advice.

And yes, he gave her the documents she wanted for her mysterious, plotting friends. He did it just to have a pretext to see her more often._ What a funny thing, a woman playing in conspiracy! _Monastario smiled with indulgence. He hadn't decided yet what to do about this strange "company of friends" that showed so much interest in Los Angeles. After the affair with the gunsmith, he thought about them all the worse. Now, looking at Anna's face, he had to admit that joining them could have some tempting aspects. Still, he hesitated.

Well, yes. He took that feather. He gave her what she wanted.

_But it doesn't mean that I caught the hook. I help her just because I want to, _concluded Monastario. He had the feeling that something is wrong with the logic of this statement, but before he found it, at the highway behind the curve he noticed two carriages and a small group of men around them.

His heart immediately beat faster. He had luck today indeed! One of the vehicles belonged to the de la Vegas. The _commandante_ thought he would have to wait till the evensong to see Anna again – and now she was here, sitting on the back seat, hidden before the sun under the umbrella…

Monastario rushed his horse toward the group, looking at her with hope for a few words of greeting, some smile, or at least knowing glance… but as usual when they were in the company of others, she only fleetingly moved oblivious sight over him and lowered her eyes to the hand of the umbrella again.

As usual, not a slightest sign that she might enjoy seeing him too.

Yet, the _commandante_ had to swallow his disappointment quickly, as the men standing around looked at him with silent question about his presence. He glanced around noticing the reason of this small gathering – the wheel of the second carriage, belonging to the some ranchero he barely knew, slipped of the axis and now all men tried to help the owner to fix it.

"Do you need any assistance, Senores?" he asked casually, fighting the urge to cast one more glance at Senorita Peréz.

The owner of the carriage started to mumble some excuses, obviously not very eager to use such unexpected help, but the _commandante_ already signed for some lancers to near and dismount. With the use of a few pairs of strong hands, the vehicle was lifted easily and wheel placed quickly on its place. Monastario forced with it for a moment to make sure that it is fastened solidly.

When he straightened, turning to the travellers again, for a moment he felt a bit unsure under the scrutinizing glance of two pairs of hazel eyes piercing him with the same mistrust as both de la Vegas, father and son, observed his assistance.

Then, however, the young one lowered his eyes, staring at the dust under his shoes and playing with his ear, and his father… Alejandro's sight clearly softened.

"Thank you, _Capitán_," he said simply, using his title for the first time since a few long weeks.

The _commandante_ stared at him surprised. For the first time Monastario realised how… warm-hearted this man is. Such adamant enemy – and so irresilient to any sign of good will…

Monastario grimaced in discomfort, feeling it is not right, like dueling with the defenseless opponent. For a moment he truly missed the times when he could say straight into his face what he thinks about him.

Yet, now he couldn't. Anna wouldn't like it.

So, he only nodded to farewell them and observed for a moment how two carriages set off in the further journey.

No. Anna didn't look back, not even once.

Monastario for a moment stood motionless looking behind the carriage disappearing in the cloud of dust, but before the bitterness took over him, he reminded himself that he will see her today once more. There were only few hours more to the evening's celebration. Perhaps then he will have some occasion to talk with her… With a new hope, he headed his horse toward the pueblo.

* * *

It was never easy in California to meet the girl in more private circumstances, even if she didn't happen to be a spy for a secret conspiracy, intending to marry someone else. Monastario's situation was even more difficult than of other wooers, as Senorita Peréz forbade him to show his recognition for her too ostensively. She said it would irritate her papa, about whom she seemed to be very caring.

So, officially he could meet her only during parties, festivities and religious celebrations receiving not much more than cold, casual greeting, when Anna, clutching to the arm of this damn dandy, looked at Monastario as if she neither knew him, nor had the will to get to know him.

By the way, Monastario, forgetting how ridiculous the duel with such opponent would be, hundreds of times was at the thin hair of challenging this infuriating fop and running him through at the smallest pretext. Still, Anna explicitly forbade him to show any sign of animosity toward de la Vega. She said it would irritate her very much.

So, instead of dealing with the situation in the most efficient and satisfying way, the only thing he could do was to discreetly manoeuvre the evening in the way letting him to exchange a few private words with the senorita. A few times she managed to visit him in the _cuartel_ and once, when he had the first part of the documents for her, she left the de la Vega hacienda at night. Though, it was very risky and Anna was reluctant to repeat such exploit, fearing that her absence might have been noticed.

The church celebrations were even less satisfying than the parties. Anna stood with her father at the de la Vegas' bench in front of the church and all that Monastario could do was to watch the back of her head. Still, somehow he always came when he heard that she will be present, hoping for at least short conversation after the celebration.

It was only irritating what people started to whisper: that Monastario has finally confessed all his sins and as the penance he was ordered to attend all the holy masses said at the Mission San Gabriel. They said that if he missed even one, the black ghost haunting him would reappear.

Monastario grinded his teeth and pretend not to hear anything. Anna asked him not to arrest too many people.

Luckily today it was not an ordinary evensong, only the day of the baptism of several vaqueros' children. On this occasion, Padre Felipe allowed a few large tables to be placed in front of the church, and after the finished celebration, Indians working at the mission were serving meat, bread and wine. After the long prayers even the most fastidious _haciendados_ enjoyed the treat and no one hurried home. People were eating, laughing and drinking and merry buzz of voices soon filled the evening's air.

Monastario stayed too and looked around in search for his lady. Of course she was nowhere in view… the _commandante_ cursed silently. As for a clumsy poet with his head in the clouds de la Vega was terribly good in disappearing when he wanted.

He caught the collar of some little lad running between the guests. The boy looked at him with fear preparing to cry, but Monastario quickly pressed into his hand a small coin.

"Go to the garden and search for a tall man walking with a girl," he said quietly. "Tell the man you are lost."

The boy looked at the coin, grinned and disappeared between the flowery bushes. Monastario stood patiently in their shadow, until he saw the young de la Vega with rather sour face carrying the child toward the large group of feasting vaqueros.

Now Monastario smiled. Anna must have known it was his little trick, if she stayed alone in the garden. He dived quickly into the narrow alleys, his triumphant smile changing into a sheepish one at the first sight of her colourful dress.

Yet if he hoped for a sweet welcome, he was immediately disillusioned.

"Did you really have to interrupt us?" hissed pretty Anna with fury glittering in her dark eyes. "I already hoped that he will finally propose."

"I am truly sorry, Senorita," muttered Monastario not hiding irony.

Well, the gossips about her engagement were not true. The young de la Vega, though he expressed his admiration and care for the pretty senorita in every possible way, kept on lingering with the final declaration of his devotion that would seal their relation and bound their families. Even the impatient advice from his father and not so discreet jokes of his friends didn't make him take the decisive step. The good citizens at the pueblo, especially the women, considered it increasingly amusing.

Anna Peréz found it unbearably irritating.

That was one thing Monastario couldn't understand. Senorita Peréz must have been aware of his affections. Women are always very skilled in noticing such feelings, perhaps even before the poor men that fell under their charm realised that themselves. If she would only give him one sign of encouragement, he would gladly ask for her hand.

But no. She was determined to marry that awkward, foppish coward. Why?

_That's because of his family, _reminded himself Monastario, before jealousy grasped his throat. _His family is rich and influential, these conspirators want to have their supporter in the house of de la Vega… She is simply fulfilling her mission._

The anger on his face gave place to compassion as he looked at the girl.

"Your friends cannot expect you to devote your whole life, Senorita, and bind yourself with the man who is unworthy of you," he said warmly. "Your happiness is more important than any of their plans. You deserve a man who would know how to protect and adore you. A man who would be strong and courageous enough to ensure you the appropriate future."

Anna Peréz looked at him for a while with wide opened eyes and when she finally burst out with laugher, there was amusement and a bit of indulgence in it.

"You know nothing of the qualities women expect from future husbands, _Capitán_," she said shaking her head, as if wondering his naivety. "With such… adventurous spirit like mine, I need a stable and forgiving man by my side. As for the future, I believe that the de la Vega hacienda is appropriate enough," she stated with roguish sparks in her eyes that turned into a bit dreamy ones when she added: "Besides, Diego is a charming companion. Always so caring… And very handsome. And…"

"I have the documents you wanted to see, Senorita," interrupted her coldly Monastario. This evening was turning into the catastrophe. "Yet, I believe it is time you told me more precisely what your friends need them for," he noticed vengefully.

"Shh! Someone's coming," the girl quieted him, grasping his arm and pulling him deeper into the shadow of the bushes. The _commandante_ couldn't hear or see anyone, but he didn't complain at this sudden closeness.

"I must go," whispered Anna into his ear, adding just before disappearing: "Go to the dons and spread gossips that you fear an Indians' uprising."

Indians' uprising? A stunned Monastario stared behind Anna for a moment until he slowly followed her to the open space where the fiesta took place. Then his sight ran to the swarthy figures, bustling among the other guests… The dwellers of the mission or the visitors from the nearby native village – its name was for Monastario too pagan to remember – were easily distinctive, thanks to their characteristic features and plain, linen clothes. However, there were plenty of natives that owned the piece of land or worked at the haciendas, living the life not different from all peons and vaqueros, the blood in their veins so mixed with the other settlers, that it was hard to find the last signs of their heritage on their faces… No, they would never took part in the uprising. They weren't a part of their old world anymore.

Of course, there were still some tribes living their old ways in the sierra… and yes, there was always a potential threat of their rebellion. But why should they rebel? What would they gain? _I'd like to see these savages attacking the walls of the cuartel, _smirked Monastario. _No matter how numerous they were, it would be enough to close the gates and wait calmly for the reinforcements… to crush them._

However, then Monastario grimaced reluctantly, realising that even if the natives would have no chances against the mighty walls of the _cuartel_, they could do a lot of harm at the ranchos… It would be expected that the _commandante_ does his best to protect _haciendados_ and their property… and generally it would be awful nuisance. Monastario wasn't afraid of some half-naked savages… but he heard of many promising officers whose career was finished by the primitive, but well-aimed arrow.

As if to reply his doubts, at the other side of the orchard natives from the village made a small arching contest. Many _haciendados_ approached them to watch, complimenting the winners with applauses and merry cries. The noise drew Monastario in this direction. Quick glance at the crowd showed him no reason for anxiety. He saw nothing more than joyous men… The _commandante_ noticed with certain surprise that the young de la Vega was there too, laughing and merrily arguing with his father. They must have wagered the winner and Alejandro apparently lost… Monastario forgot the alleged uprising and watched the young man with growing dislike.

How did he call him a few minutes before? Awkward, foppish coward?

_Why do I think that he is weird? _wondered for a moment Monastario. _He does not fight, but he is not the only one…_ _True, usually people at the pueblo carry the weapon, but many of these dragging the blades by their sides do not even how to properly grasp the hilt…_

Foppish? For the first time Monastario realised that the boy wears nothing more but traditional caballero clothes. Well, at the dust of the pueblo such outfit was rather out of place, but here, during the festivity… he wasn't differing from others. _And he is not using that walking stick anymore, _noticed the _commandante_.

Monastario had to admit that he what he saw now was just a merry young man full of life and verve. Anna found him handsome… The _commandante_ realised with cold despair that Anna will marry the young de la Vega, and then they will live very happily… even if in the discreet shadow of the girl's mysterious friends…

Monastario stood in the dusk, numbly recalling that the last time when he felt so lonely was many years ago, when he was looking at the Spanish shores disappearing in the grey mist as his ship was cutting the salty waves, one by one, toward the horizon…

In the meantime the competitors decided it got too dark to continue the play and started to hide their weapons. Also the spectators slowly returned to the tables. Monastario, deep in his gloomy thoughts, hardly noticed that, but Don Alfredo saw him and approached with the greeting, followed by the other dons.

"I didn't know you enjoy such entertainment, _Capitán_," observed Don Alfredo. "These boys are quite handy with their bows, don't you think?" he pointed at the archers.

"Yes, I believe that they are," nodded a bit unconsciously Monastario, noticing that the de la Vegas are in the group that neared to him too, and that Senorita Peréz appeared out of the sudden by the side of the young one.

Now she pierced the _commandante_ with the urging sight.

Monastario hesitated, not sure whether to enter this strange intrigue. He was slowly getting tired with…

Anna lowered her eyes and sent him from under the dark eyelashes a long, pleading glance.

Monastario sighed, concentrated and replied seemingly obliviously:

"Maybe they are even too skilled. Yes, they seem to be so calm and innocent… Still, their brothers who live in wilderness didn't forget the violent ways of their ancestors. I heard some rumours that we may have to face another uprising soon."

The _commandante_ said the last sentence deliberately lightly, an innocent remark thrown during the conversation with no particular reason, but he immediately got the attention of the men around him

"What? Natives are rebelling again?" exclaimed Don Alfredo obviously terrified. "But in this region we have peace since decades!"

"That's not possible. We would notice some tension," stated calmingly young de la Vega and explained, seeing the questioning looks of his companions: "The Indians would visit pueblos buying food and provisions, they would move their huts higher into the mountains… And the weapon traders would certainly appear. They always do when the war is to come. Still, none of this has happened."

Monastario almost grinded his teeth with anger. How did this boy dare to contradict him? Oh, damn, dandy or not, he was more and more like his father; a real de la Vega: unbearable nuisance on each occasion.

"Since when you are such expert in the military field, Senor?" the _commandante_ asked maliciously. "Have you read about many rebellions in your books?"

"It is only logical," the young man obliviously shrugged his shoulders. "Books are not necessary to think logically. I believe that even you could try it, _Capitán_."

Monastario gasped and reddened, but the other dons, still shaken by the news, didn't pay attention to their small exchange.

"Saints protect us, I sincerely hope that you are right, Diego," interrupted them Don Alfredo, shaking his head. "I prefer even not to imagine the consequences of any restlessness in the mountains."

"Why Senor? What does it matter to you?" asked Monastario irritated now with the _haciendado_ who seemed to be as disturbed as if he was the one responsible for fighting the potential rebellion. "Your cattle don't graze in the mountains."

From Don Alfredo's sight the _commandante_ could read that he just said something very stupid.

"Yes, but my cattle drink water from the river that springs originate in the mountains. Haven't you noticed how hot this season is, _Capitán_? Extremely hot and dry."

"It is, but what does it have to do with the natives?" asked impatiently Monastario.

"I fail to see the connection too," muttered Alejandro de la Vega under his nose.

"With the level of water in the wells and in the river so low, if someone does something to the springs… I would be done," the don almost moaned, a bit hurt at their lack of compassion.

"Calm yourself, Alfredo!" now impatience was evident in Alejandro's voice. "What could anyone possibly do with the springs?"

"I have got no idea, but do not laugh at me, Alejandro. You are not in such desperate situation as me. The man on the brink sees the threat in each shadow!"

As he spoke, Monastario took a deep breath and looked sharply at Anna Peréz. The girl turned her eyes away, pretending she didn't notice this silent question… but somehow the _commandante_ was sure that she knew precisely what could happen to the springs…

What was going on here?

In the meantime, Alejandro assured his friend slightly ashamed of his previous harsh words.

"I am not laughing at you, I know it is a difficult season. We just shouldn't despair."

"The drought wouldn't be such a problem had it not coincided with the troubles with the sales," noticed one of the other rancheros. "Usually at this part of the year I sell a considerable herd, but with hardly any buyers at the markets the prices were so low… I decided to keep the whole drove and wait for better occasion, yet if the water lacks, I may soon regret it."

"That's my problem. That's exactly my problem," muttered sadly Don Alfredo. "Do not wonder that when in addition to everything, I heard about the possible uprising… it just looks as if the fate was against us."

"That is really unlucky coincidence. Very unlucky," suddenly agreed with him Alejandro's son. Agreed? His voice was very strange. Very… distracted. "Of course the drought is one thing, but the bandits at the road… the uprising… it is something entirely different."

"I am sorry, Don Diego, I am not following you…" Don Alfredo turned to him with unsure glance.

The young man shook his head, as if waking from some troubling thoughts and replied smoothly:

"I am just compassionate with your difficult situation, Senor."

"We are all in difficult situation," noticed Alejandro with a sigh. "But I told you we cannot despair. At least I am sure that with this alleged uprising you are right, Diego. It is nonsense. These rumours must be some mistake."

It seemed that the gossips about natives' rebellion didn't find the willing ear among the rancheros. Monastario now felt even relieved, but Anna… oh, she stood quiet and silent, as usual when she was listening to the men's conversation, but her pretty eyes casted real flames toward her future husband and father-in-law…

But her companion didn't notice it, only with distraction tugged his ear.

"On the second thought, Father, we shouldn't neglect any gossip, if the source is reliable," he stated slowly. "Where have you heard about it, _Capitán_?"

Monastario cursed at the ability of this boy to continuously surprise him with his sudden questions. He hadn't thought about the possible answer and now he desperately searched for something that would close the way to further investigation…

"I got the warning from Monterey," he replied coldly, but Alejandro's son immediately caught the thread.

"The courier arrived? I didn't know. When?"

Monastario swirled, torn between anxiety and irritation, his head empty with no further excuses, but luckily in this moment Anna decided to take over the conversation.

"Diego, _por favor_… It was such pleasurable evening and now you spoil it with such gloomy talks!" she exclaimed with a merry complaint in her voice. "Cannot we instead organize here some dances?"

The young man for a moment kept looking at Monastario but soon he turned to the girl with no shadow of previous distraction, only warm smile in his eyes:

"Dances? You would like to have music and dances at the mission? I am not sure if Padre Felipe would approve it," he said wilfully, but added with a wink: "Still, if we ask him, and he will agree, I am sure that we could find a few guitars longing to be used."

_He is such an idiot, blind idiot_, thought the _commandante_ with amusement, looking behind the young de la Vega walking slowly with his companion at the direction of the mission. _She is simply leading him by his nose and he even doesn't notice it…_

* * *

Pina sat behind his desk, his elbows on its top, his chin resting on his palms and his eyes – fixed on the bulging leather pouch.

He couldn't resist the feeling that it is a pouch that is looking at him.

Most people would be happy to receive such parcel, seeing in it a prosperous opportunity. Yet, the _licenciado_ didn't. From the first moment this morning, when some young, shy friar on his way from Monterey to the Mission San Gabriel brought him the package obviously unaware of its content and Pina, having unfolded the leather and linen wrapping, weighted the pouch in his hand, realising immediately that it is filled with gold – he felt the shiver of anxiety.

There was no honest reason why someone should send him such amount of money.

The letter attached to the parcel only confirmed his suspicions.

'_Esteemed Licenciado!'_

As soon as Pina read the headline and looked at the signature, in his head sounded the suave, slightly mocking voice of Senor López. He swallowed hard and continued the lecture.

'_As the man so observant as you may have guessed, our business in the Pueblo de Nuestra Señora la Reina de los Ángeles del Río de Porciúncula is far from being finished. Considering the circumstances that do not allow us to proceed with them personally at the moment, we decided to entrust in your hands the most urgent affairs. Your ability to astute analysis of the situation will certainly allow you to notice all benefits from our cooperation as well as all possible losses of the lack of it._

_It may happen in the near future that some people in your admirable pueblo will urgently need ready money. In such case, we would like you, Licenciado, to loan them the desired amount – of course under the appropriate surety – in the name of Senor Roque Camero, whose funds we hereby put at your disposal._

_Whatever interest you may gather from the given loans, you can keep as your remuneration. Although we cannot inform you now how long it will take until Senor Camero will claim the repayment, we assure you that you will be suitably rewarded for your assistance._

_With regards from your friends and associates_

_Pasqual Villa de López'_

Pina sighed, put the letter aside and hid his face in his palms. Then he wriggled anxiously, feeling that the pouch is still looking at him.

_Friends and associates, _he muttered. _Friends and associates, they say… __I am sure that I even do not know their real names…_

From the moment when López and Ramírez visited him in his office in Los Angeles, from the moment when he asked "What are you interested in?", silently accepting their proposal of cooperation, he was certain that one day they will appear again, demanding further assistance. Still, he didn't expect that they will want him to be so… deeply involved in their affairs…

The _licenciado_ weighted the pouch once more in his hand. It was more money than he has ever seen in his life at once. What's more, it was probably more money than Monastario has ever in his life seen at once. Judging roughly, it was a sum comparable to the annual income of the prosperous hacienda.

One does not accept such money without asking any questions. The _licenciado_ was a greedy man, yet he was also cautious enough not to reach for more than he was able to handle. If he accepts now the López' proposal and starts to lend them, he will be equally guilty of any scheme his new… friends and associates may have.

And it was certain that they have some scheme. _It may happen in the near future…_ No, Pina preferred even not to imagine what this small sentence could mean.

Besides, there was something else.

One does also not entrust such money, unless he is absolutely sure that that they are safe. Such pouch was enough to arrange a comfortable life in Mexico, in America, even in Europe. How could López know that Pina won't simply take the money and disappear?

The answer was one.

_One of them is already here, _muttered Pina. _He is here and keeps an eye on everything… _

But who was it? The same man Monastario was ordering all these strange lists for? The _licenciado_ shivered realising that Monastario probably received his own offer of cooperation… and accepted it without consulting it with Pina… Not knowing any details of its conditions left Pina no choice but to accept his, keeping it secret from the _commandante_…

_So, we are both serving their purposes now… _realised Pina with all clarity, _but not together anymore… only in secrecy from each other… And besides me and Monastario… there might be others in this cobweb…_

Considering all that Pina knew – and even more cautiously considering what he didn't know – there was only one thing that the _licenciado_ could do now.

He hid the pouch the most carefully he could and lit the López letter in the candle flame, waiting patiently until it turned into ashes. Yet before that, he copied the name of Senor Camero on the small piece of paper. It was more than probable that this name will be of use in the 'near future', when the _licenciado_ will be giving loans and issuing the bills in his name.

* * *

The church built in Los Angeles was very different from this at the Mission San Gabriel. Finished recently, it still smelled with mortar and fresh wood. Bigger windows let in more light, the paintings at the altar were bright and the inside generally looked maybe not so dignified, but much merrier

Monastario stepped in, fully oblivious to this neat outlook. On the contrary, he almost snickered with irritation, when he noticed some lancers staring at him with opened mouths as he entered the church on the morning, when there was no celebration and only people whose souls needed the moment of quiet contemplation search for it in the holy walls.

_Soon they will start to talk I am going to became some damn chaplain! _he bridled.

Still, it was the only place at the pueblo where Anna could spend some time alone without raising suspicions, free of the watchful eyes of Dona Imelda. And she was already there, kneeling near the altar… Monastario stopped, not sure whether she is not praying but as soon as the girl noticed him, she raised and pointed him the side chapel.

They sat by the wall, so that they could keep an eye on the entrance and Anna removed the black mantilla from her face.

"We have plenty of time. Diego fancied to visit some peasants, he calls tenants, at the wildest end of the rancho," she said with discontent grimace at being neglected in such way.

"I couldn't bring you the documents to the church, Senorita, but I will send the lancers somewhere out tonight. If you manage to visit the _cuartel_, I will give you everything… just remember that the maps are quite big. I do not know how you will hide them," whispered Monastario.

"Later, _Capitán_. Tonight we cannot meet. Tonight you are busy," replied Anna and, seeing his questioning glance, finished with a smile: "You have an uprising to organise."

Monastario took deep breath. Certainly Anna was the most beautiful and charming woman he ever met and he would gladly do everything for her… but he slowly started to wonder whether even everything shouldn't have its limits.

"What is it with this uprising?" he asked sharply. "Don Alfredo was right, it is about the springs?"

"Yes, _Capitán_. If there is no water for the cattle, the rancheros will be in the most precarious position. That's how one deals with rebellious landowners," replied Anna with shadow of superiority.

"If this drought continues, the water will soon lack anyway," the _commandante_ shrugged his shoulders a little aggravated by her small taunt. "Why mess with the natives? It can arouse suspicions."

"And if the rain falls too soon, the whole plan will be for nothing. No, we cannot risk it."

"So, what do your friends have planned, Senorita?" Monastario raised his voice with irritation. "I am not an architect, do not expect me to build the dams. And remember that Indians, even the most hostile ones, do not build them too."

"No, but the furious savages bring fire, destruction, death… slaughter…" Anna started mysteriously as if she was reading a poem. "If there is battle, there are corpses. And if no one buries them… they turn into poison that will get into the soil, into the waters… Oh, if you could see your face!" she suddenly changed her voice bursting out with quiet laughter. "Did I scary you? I am sorry, it was a joke, I wasn't speaking about people, only about cattle."

"Cattle," repeated numbly Monastario, not understanding at all what was she driving at.

"Yes, wasn't it common that the natives during their rides wrecked their anger at the droves of their oppressors? Slaughtering the cattle?"

"No," replied only the _commandante_. He heard about burnt haciendas, but never about slaughtered cattle. Anyway, he didn't like this conversation.

"Well, it will happen now," the melodic voice of the girl became a bit impatient. "It doesn't have to be anything serious… just a few animals.. . And it will also happen that the carcasses would get into these precious springs… No one would dare to search and clean the lands taken by rebellion and even if they tried, you and your lancers will secure the region. With such temperatures as now, the carrions will poison the water in a few days."

Monastario stared at her blinking.

The _commandante_ was far from believing that the women should be angels, on the contrary, long ago he learnt to appreciate the company of ladies with inclinations to liberties not approved by the priests. Still, there was a difference between enjoying merry, sinful pleasures and… this.

The strange contrast in the picture of such a beautiful girl speaking about… carcasses made him dizzy.

_Who am I talking to? _he thought helplessly. _Who is she?_

"Oh, it will be simple!" urged him Anna, misinterpreting his silence. "No one will ever notice that there was no real rebellion, not even your lancers, if you command them wisely. That's what the natives do, strike and disappear."

Monastario involuntarily nodded. One quick ride, then escape… Yes, everyone would believe that natives could do it… Then he would pretend to hunt the culprits, whereas in fact he would be waiting till the heat does his work… Yes, this could work.

Before his eyes appeared the picture of swollen carrions, with flies and birds over them… He turned to Anna, but even when he was looking straight at her face, the terrible picture didn't disappear.

"I have checked your maps," she continued eager to discuss the details. "There are some natives' camps near these springs. You will go there – still today, perhaps even during siesta, we cannot lose any hour – and ask them to kill a few pieces of cattle and throw to the water. You may threaten them, pay them, whatever… You should go there in disguise…"

"No. No disguise," quickly chimed in Monastario. Maybe he didn't understand anything from what was going around him, but one thing was certain. He won't go anywhere in disguise anymore.

"As you wish. Perhaps it will be even better this way," Anna shrugged her shoulders and some very unpleasant sparks shined in her eyes. "Once it will be done, you will take control of this region… preventing anyone from checking how the situation really looks like. That's all."

"This plan…" Monastario cleared his throat. "I do not think that…"

"Yes, I know, there are still wells," nodded Anna. "There is nothing we could do about them. But wells won't be enough. I checked the maps precisely, and I considered how numerous the droves are… And I learnt how much water they need. Diego told me," she chuckled slightly. "I calculated everything. We just have to hurry. One may never know how long it is till the rain falls."

Monastario shifted in his seat. She calculated everything. She was giving him a way to achieve what he struggled for since month. The strength of the _haciendados_ broken… No doubt her foreseeing friends already found the way to prevent rancheros from getting over the troubles too easily. But…

"Senorita, I do not deny that I would like to tame the arrogance of the landowners, that they all deserve a lesson and some of them the gallows, but… not like this. It is a coward's way…"

"It is an efficient way! No one will die except a few cows! Well, maybe you will be forced to hang some Indians after that, but…" Anna smiled shrugging her shoulders.

Indeed, Monastario didn't care more for the natives than for the dogs wandering through the pueblo. So, the plan was perfect, safe and harmless, as far as it succeeds. And if it fails…

If it fails the _commandante_ will be very deep in troubles and the only proof of existence of this all-calculating conspiracy will be… will be no more than one small, funny cut eagle feather in Monastario's desk.

"Your friends want to impoverish the _haciendados_ for the gains I am not fully aware of," replied slowly Monastario, struggling to gather his turmoiled thoughts. "And for this I have to throw the carcasses into the water."

"Not you personally," Anna smiled as if calming a child. "Just make others do it."

She had such a beautiful smile. She was always such a beauty. She charmed the young de la Vega and soon will become the lady of the richest hacienda in the region. Wasn't her future family also to suffer from her plan? Perhaps yes, perhaps not. Don Alfredo said something about Alejandro not being in such desperate situation. Wasn't this river going through their territory? Had they got more wells? Monastario had not idea but he was sure that Anna calculated it precisely. Perhaps de la Vega was to be spared… just to become a tool, thanks to this lovely spy in his house. Whatever was going to happen, it was certainly carefully planned.

Monastario's mind was still too stunned to work, but his instinct whispered: _It is not a woman, it is a viper. Get away! _

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No," he repeated standing up.

Anna looked at him with widely opened eyes and on her face for the first time appeared the shadow of confusion.

And then she burst out in tears.

"So they will kill me," she confessed, hiding face in her palms.

"Who?" Monastario sat back, leaning to her.

"These people… these who sent me here… you do not know how cruel they can be… They promised to leave me alone if I do it, but if I fail… they will kill me…"

Oh, damn. Why didn't he think about it before? That was clear, these rascals blackmailed her. Now her strange behavior made sense.

"I am just so scared…" sobbed Anna.

She was so fragile and vulnerable, like all creatures her age and gender. Certainly someone simply terrorized her. And she was so lovely. How could he think of her as of a viper? The _commandante_ felt his cheeks burning with shame. He had to help her. Surely, these bastards will have to be dealt with, but now her safety was the first priority.

"Don't look at me, I am ugly when I am crying…" she whispered between the tears… and that was all the _commandante_ needed to take his decision.

"I'll go, I'll do it. Don't worry, Senorita, everything will be fine," Monastario assured her quickly, so moved that he was near to tears himself. "I'll go right now, and if you manage to visit the _cuartel_ at the evening, I'll tell you about everything still today."

"Thank you, _Capitán_, I shall never forget your kindness," sighed feebly Anna and added, wiping the tears from her pale, smooth cheeks: "Just remember to tell these Indians that the corpses should lie at the sun for a few hours before they throw them into water. Otherwise we would have to wait too long for the results."


	9. The pretty intrigue 2

Monastario dried the sweat from his temple and looked around. At first he saw nothing but the air wavering in the heat of the midday sun. It was hot, so terribly hot… The _commandante_ was glad he left his favourite white horse at the _cuartel_, to spare the gentle animal the exertion in the hottest hours of the day. The mount he rode shivered and breathed heavily, his sides all wet and dusty. Well, the poor animal could rest now. They reached their destination.

The _commandante_ stared with disgust at the miserable huts of the natives' settlement. Wretched sheds, worthy rather of animals than people. Why did they choose to remain here? They could move to the pueblo, live with some dignity… Then he recalled some of the peons' barracks he saw, how some _caporales_ treated the workers… whips… The _commandante_ moved aside all these thoughts with angry snicker. After all, what did he care? He didn't come here to snivel over some savages.

"Hey! Is someone here?" he yelled toward the huts. "I want to talk with you," he said toward a few dark faces that emerged in the openings serving as doors and windows.

Most of the faces disappeared. Two elderly men exchanged a few words in a language that for him sounded simply inhuman and one of them called in Spanish:

"We do not want to talk with you!"

Then they also hid deep in the hut.

Monastario sighed. Has he now to run and drag them out of their holes? Damn, it was so hot he could barely breathe.

"So I will return with soldiers and burn your village!" he yelled even louder.

After the moment of silence a young man, almost a teenager, emerged from one of the sheds.

"I will talk with you, but not here. Let's go into the shadow," he said pointing at the nearby cluster of small trees.

Monastario eyed him curiously. The boy was wearing leather clothes and the necklace made of teeth and claws of some animal. Very big one. Especially the claws looked impressive. Perhaps this young one was some kind of a leader here?

"All right," he nodded and followed the young warrior.

When they sat in the shadow, the _commandante_ threw another glance at this necklace. For a moment he felt tempted to ask the Indian about it. Was a bear? Did this boy kill it himself? How old was he exactly? The he shrugged these questions away. Again, why should he be interested in some dirty wildling? The native was to serve as tool, nothing more.

"I want you to do something," Monastario said straight. "I will pay you for it."

The face of the Indian didn't flinch even a bit.

"What do you want?"

"You will find the nearest drove," started the _commandante_, trying to make his orders as simple as he could so that this savage would understand him, "you will kill a few pieces of cattle, you will wait until they start to decay and then you will throw them to the springs were the river starts."

Damn, when he said it, it sounded even worse than when he was thinking about it.

The face of the young warrior remained unreadable.

"Such big animals will poison the water," he stated calmly. "No one will be able to drink it, neither we nor you."

"Yes," replied impatiently Monastario. "You will have to leave this place then. Don't worry, you will be rewarded."

"Why?"

"That's not your business. I want to have it done quickly. Today, tomorrow the latest," urged him the _commandante_, but the Indian didn't move.

"If we do it, you will chase us," he said as obliviously as before.

"And if you do not do it, I will burn your village right now!" Monastario was getting irritated with the calm of this savage. "And you will regret if you speak to anyone about my visit," he added menacingly.

"We must consider it. Come tomorrow for the answer," the boy rose, signing that the conversation is finished.

Monastario realised immediately that tomorrow he would find the village empty and the small tribe disappeared. He jumped up and grabbed the boy's jacket.

"Haven't you heard what I said? I want it done now. Or you will be first to die," he hissed drawing out his blade to press it to the Indian's throat.

He would never expect what happened next.

The boy twisted in his grasp, somehow releasing himself and simultaneously placing such strong kick in Monastario's knee that it cut him off his feet. Falling on the ground, the _commandante_ saw the glitter of the knife that out of nowhere appeared in the Indian's hand – but before he managed to decide whether to try to dodge it, or parry, the dark shadow blurred in front of him, followed by the warning order:

"Do not kill him!"

For a moment Monastario just laid on the ground, staring at the scene with the open mouth, moving his eyes from the warrior, whose calm face so suddenly darkened with wrath – to the black figure between them.

Out of nowhere as usual.

Where in the hell did he find in this dazzling sun the shadow to hide?

"Don't kill him," repeated quieter the Fox, raising calmingly the hand toward the young warrior.

"He offended me. He wanted to buy us, like servants," replied the native with the menace in his eyes and voice.

"Don't be so vengeful," Zorro laughed. "He is simply stupid. Now, go to the others and leave us. You did your part well, but he is my business."

To Monastario's surprise, the face of the young Indian for one small second after hearing the praise lit with the most boyish smile. Then he said something in his strange language, nodded and ran toward the village, leaving the two enemies alone.

"_Commandante_ Monastario," said slowly the Fox, shaking his head, as if he was wondering something. "I must admit I didn't expect that you will be the one I will meet here."

Monastario stood up, not letting the blade out of his hand and not leaving his eyes from his enemy.

He was so happy to see this cursed masked again.

For a moment he forgot why he came here, he forgot the Indians, the water, even Anna. During the last weeks he feared that the Fox disappeared for good, leaving the _commandante_ alone with all unfinished accounts between them… And now…

Suddenly it struck him that it might be not his bandit, but some imposter who would try to follow his impudent exploits in similar disguise. Holding his breath, he ran his sight through the black silhouette, trying to recall as many details from their previous meetings as possible… No, it was certainly him, the man who asked to call himself _el Zorro._ No one else would manage to look in the bright sun so dark and elusive.

_He is just a man, _reminded himself Monastario, feeling that he is again unwittingly getting confused with the charisma of the bandit,_ last time I saw him he got hurt. Today I may have more luck._

The _commandante_ corrected the grasp on the hand guard of his blade, but Zorro didn't even touch his weapon, only stood relaxed, obviously in mood for conversation. Monastario decided to talk with him for a while before the fight, just to show this rascal he is not the only one with wits and eloquence… and wipe that impudent smile from his face…

"Ah, so the Fox crawled out of the darkness once more?" he asked challengingly. "And I feared that I will indeed have to dig under the earth to find your lair. What have you been doing, when hiding yourself so cautiously?"

"Wandering around, having fun…" the Fox showed his teeth in the wide, flashing smile. "And by the way learning many news…"

"For example?" asked the _commandante_ casually, trying to follow the nonchalance of the bandit. "What news did you hear, _bandido?_"

The Fox only grinned once again at the insult:

"That someone has very intense interest in the businesses of Los Angeles. Unhealthy interest, I dare say. But… you certainly know that much. I thought you were simply cheated like the others, but now I see that your… involvement is much deeper."

"I do not know what you are talking about," Monastario straightened proudly and shrugged his shoulders with all self-confidence he could muster. The effect spoilt a little by the fact that he had to wipe the sweat biting into his eyes.

"_Capitán_, I heard every word you said to my young friend," the Fox smiled with indulgence and the _commandante_ realised the Indian deliberately led him into this place. They must have settled it earlier… He bridled turning toward the village, but Zorro blocked his way.

"Leave the boy. He only did what I asked him to."

"So, you found the worthy friends among the savages now?" Monastario hissed through clenched teeth, but the Fox only nodded seriously.

"They can be worthy friends. Yet you would have to show them some respect," he shook his head as if underlining that something like this would be beyond Monastario's possibilities.

"Your friendship will bring them no luck," snarled the _commandante_, already envisioning what he will do with this village and its dwellers.

"Oh, they won't wait here for your revenge. I warned them they will have to leave this place. Tomorrow you will find no trace of them," Zorro smiled slightly and sat comfortably on some rock. "Now, let's talk about your new friends."

Damn, was this man not hot in his black clothes? The _commandante_ felt as if he was baking alive. Nevertheless, he struggled to concentrate and not show his discomfort.

"Why should I confide anything to an outlaw?"

"Because, _Capitán_, of the two of us, it is you who is doing something unlawful here," the Fox stated calmly and Monastario, despite the heat, felt the cold shiver.

This bandit was right.

Suddenly the _commandante_ realised that this time he was not acting in the glory of his office, with the backing of the power entrusted to him by the governor, in some sense even by the King himself. He was… plotting. He was trying to commit the deed that could be described as nothing less than a treasonable offence.

If the _haciendados_ learnt about it, they would simply lynch him and even the governor would acquit them.

"Go to hell, you bastard, you are not the one to judge me," he gnarled, trying to shake off the grasp of fear on his throat.

"No, _Capitán_, but if you proceed this way, the others may soon do it," replied warningly Zorro. "You have crossed the line of your usual intrigues. It is not a joke. Whoever these people are, they successfully organised the robberies at the trails and managed to block the trade in the whole region…"

What? That was something Monastario didn't think about earlier.

"They did?" he repeated stunned and immediately cursed himself for sounding like Garcia.

The Fox looked at him for a long while, but he didn't smile.

"They did," he repeated only. "Now they tried to help the drought that is tormenting us already. As soon as I heard the news about alleged rebellion, it was obvious that the case is about these springs… So, I came here to wait for their envoy. But I really didn't expect that it would be you, _Capitán_," he said almost sadly, stressing his title.

Monastario didn't answer. That was awful… but he couldn't find an answer.

"Now, _Capitán_, I already know what this intrigue is about, but I do not know who plotted it and why. Tell me," urged him Zorro and when the _commandante_ kept silent, he continued: "You were nothing but a tool. You would have no profit of it, just troubles. Why did you agree?"

"You know nothing. You have no idea what you are talking about," tried Monastario, but even he heard how weak it sounded. The Fox only shook his head:

"You put at risk your career, freedom, life… honour. Why?"

He was right. Dios, could it be true that Monastario let someone cheat himself like a newborn?

"Let's talk honestly. I tell you what I know, you tell me what you know," said encouragingly _el Zorro_.

For one small second the _commandante_ was stunned with the thought that it might be the right solution. To use the help of this bandit and get out of his present predicament… He could count with him later… Perhaps even during such short cooperation he would reveal his identity?

No. He would have to tell him about Anna. No man would ever endanger the lady in such way.

"That's too much," he said sharply standing up and raising his sword. "Defend yourself!"

Zorro didn't move.

"I cannot force you to talk, _Capitán_," he stated after a while, "but something tells me you first will regret it. And you won't stop me from learning the truth."

"Defend yourself!" repeated Monastario almost with despair, to deafen all doubts.

"No, I will not cross the blades with you," sighed the Fox and whistled. The black stallion appeared as the shadow out of nowhere, just like his master few minutes before.

Monastario watched at this with astonishment. Was it some kind of a joke? Was he intending to leave… just like this?

"Are you scared?" he asked with a strangled laughter.

Zorro looked straight into his eyes.

"You have just threatened the innocent boy to proceed with the meanest, the most disgusting and cowardly intrigue I have ever heard about," he said calmly as if leading the casual conversation. "It's not the way of the soldier, only of the scavenger. To offer you a duel would be a disgrace."

Monastario lacked the breath in his lungs. _How is it possible that each time I meet him he manages to be more insulting then before?_ crossed through his stunned mind.

"You noticed once that I am attached to my blade. Well, it is true, I am. I won't dishonour it fighting with the man who acts like this," finished the Fox standing up and mounting his horse.

"How… how dare you?" stuttered Monastario. "You think I will allow you to leave so easily?" he would laugh if the fury didn't clench his throat, so he only moved closer to the black stallion, preparing to strike.

"Don't, _Capitán_. Don't," warned him the bandit, playing with the hand of the whip fastened to his saddle. "I would find no joy in humiliating you more. Besides," he pointed toward the Indians' village, "you cost these people a lot of troubles. I wouldn't stretch their patience in your place."

Monastario followed his glance and noticed at least dozen of men and younglings, who exited from the huts. They kept their primitive, but solid looking bows and looked at the _commandante_ with very gloomy expressions...

* * *

_Loyalty, _thought Pina, half amused, half embittered. _What a strange concept. Who can exactly say what does it mean?_

Right now it probably meant that he should tell Monastario about the letter of Senor López and about the gold of Senor Camero.

_He didn't tell me anything, _defended Pina. Yet, his conscious whispered that after all, Monastario was his employer… he didn't have to explain his decisions. _Still it would be nice of him to…,_ started Pina and stopped. 'Nice' wasn't an adjective one could use thinking about Monastario.

_He is arrogant, ungracious, egoistic, heartless… oh, whatever. I have to talk with him, _sighed Pina giving up.

So, as soon as the hottest hours of the day were over, the _licenciado_ went to the _cuartel_, but he didn't find Monastario there. The soldier keeping guard at the gate could tell him only that the _commandante_ left somewhere alone a few hours before.

Hoping to learn anything more, Pina approached Garcia and Reyes chatting in the middle of the plaza. When he was near, he heard the melancholic voice of Corporal Reyes.

"I don't like it," the lancer sounded so decisively pessimistic that Pina involuntarily followed his glance – but he couldn't see anything more than the _cuartel's_ gate and the yard behind it.

"What you don't like, Corporal?" asked Sergeant Garcia, looking around equally confused.

"This."

"This?" the sergeant furrowed his eyebrows. "This is the yard."

"Yes," confirmed patiently Reyes, repeating: "I don't like it."

"And why should you like it?" exclaimed Garcia with surprise.

Pina sighed. The lancers definitely could continue that way much longer without getting to the conclusion. If the _licenciado_ wanted to hear something substantial before he fries alive at the blazing plaza, he had to push the conversation a little.

"What don't you like about it now, Corporal?" he cautiously formulated the question.

"It is different," replied sadly Reyes.

For a long while Garcia and Pina contemplated the fragment of _cuartel's_ yard visible from their position trying to define the reason of corporal's anxiety.

"It is clean," finally the sergeant stated with hesitation.

Reyes eagerly nodded.

"It is good when things are clean, you idiot!" exclaimed Garcia rolling his eyes, but then added a bit quieter: "Though it was much easier to find things before all this cleaning. At least everything was at hand."

"I don't like when things are different," stated the corporal unmoved.

"Recently many things are different," muttered Pina. _For example, I am talking to some narrow-minded soldiers, because their capitán now meets me only to give me strange orders… and no explanations…_

"But they are changing for good, _Licenciado_!" objected the sergeant. "At least most of them," he précised with certain nostalgia, throwing longing glance in the direction of the tavern.

_Or so it may seem, _Pina shrugged his shoulder, but answered nothing.

"I do not like when things are changing," continued Reyes. "Especially when I do not know why."

_I never thought I will say it… but I am exactly of the same opinion, _thought bitterly Pina, but the sergeant only waved his hand.

"This yard was dirty like a pigsty, that's why!"

"It was always like that. Why change it now?" repeated stubbornly the corporal.

"And that is exactly the crux of the matter, my friends," sounded merry voice behind them and Diego de la Vega approached their small group.

The young man was obviously in exquisite mood, strolling with his walking stick, more elegant than usual, so cheerful and joyous that even Pina, despite his dejection, had to smile.

"Don Diego!" exclaimed both lancers with the blissful expressions.

"Don Diego! How good to see you!" the sergeant looked at him almost tenderly and the young man got a bit abashed with his hearty welcome.

"It is good to see you too, Sergeant. I am sorry, I know I didn't visit the pueblo too often lately, but I didn't mean too… neglect you… It is just that…" he excused himself unusually clumsily, but the sergeant only nodded sadly, fully aware that the paunchy soldier is no competition for the companion of the pretty lady:

"You do not have to apologize, Don Diego, I understand that you had a good reason."

"So, my friends, _Licenciado_… how are you? Any news?" de la Vega asked in the most casual way, but Pina stiffened and his thoughts immediately ran to the parcel he got yesterday. These were the news indeed! But there was no reason to feel so… guilty.

_He meant nothing particular, it was just a greeting, _he calmed himself, not understanding why the most innocent remark of the young man throws him so much off balance.

"It is hot today," he mumbled, to cover his confusion.

"Extremely hot," de la Vega nodded eagerly with a sigh.

"Terribly hot!" exclaimed Garcia, raising his eyebrows with suggestive glance.

When they took places at the small table in the tavern's patio – it was still cooler there then in the stuffy sala – Pina for a moment wondered whether he shouldn't decline the invitation and return to his office. Yet, it didn't happen very often that he had the occasion to … simply chat with someone. So, he didn't refuse immediately, just followed the others and suddenly he found himself sitting over the wine in the most peculiar company… and he started to enjoy it.

Unfortunately, the neat conversation didn't last too long. Reyes barely managed to state that he liked it better before and de la Vega started to inquire with admirable patience what the corporal was referring to, when Monastario rode into the plaza.

Very tired, red, sweaty and immensely furious Monastario.

He ran with scornful angry glance through the small group sitting comfortably in the shadow with the filled glassed in front of them. At the view of de la Vega and Pina he only grimaced reluctantly, but seeing his lancers, the _commandante_ yelled so loudly that the echo sounded at the plaza:

"What are you doing here, lazy stupid mules! You are on duty! Next time I will have to remind you this, you will finish in the stocks!"

"Do you find it more familiar, Corporal?" muttered quietly Sergeant Garcia, straightening at attention.

"Yes," nodded Reyes with peaceful smile. "At least now I know what to do," he whispered slipping off the chair and cuddling himself to the wall so tightly, that his thin figure totally disappeared in its shadow.

The sergeant threw him a wistful glance, eager to follow such manoeuvre, but then looked at his belly and sighed.

"Si, _Capitán_," he only stated resigned.

No, it definitely wasn't a good moment for the honest conversation with the _commandante_, decided Pina moving back a little too – and then his eyes fell on de la Vega.

The young man didn't even grimace; instead he was observing Monastario with the most vivid interest. No, not like the rich dandy disgusted with the boorish soldier. _Like the cat looking at the mouse, _précised the _licenciado_.

"So get to work you dull barrel!" the _commandante_ gnarled at Garcia's direction and headed his horse toward the _cuartel_. And then he turned back again.

"Change these damn posters and raise this damn reward!" he yelled even louder than before pointing at Zorro's wanted posters.

"Oh my. That indeed sounds familiar," whispered the sergeant closing his eyes, repeating loudly: "Si, _Capitán_."

Only after Monastario disappeared behind the gate of the _cuartel_, the fat lancer dared to let the breath out.

"I am sorry, Sergeant," said the young de la Vega with compassion. "I am sorry."

"Don't worry, Don Diego, I am used to this," sighed Garcia. "Only that it is so hot… and there are so many of these posters…" suddenly his eyes glittered with hope. "Don Diego, do you think that we could do the same as the last time? Add a number, at the beginning, or in the end, or something?"

The young man looked at the poster and for a long while analysed it in deep consideration.

"No, Sergeant… I am afraid that it would be certain exaggeration," he sighed finally with regret.

"What a pity," muttered Garcia. "So, how do you think, how much the reward should be raised? I won't dare to ask this devil about anything now."

"Garcia!" they heard Monastario's yell behind them and the sergeant almost collapsed, until he realised that the _commandante_ stood too far to hear his last words.

"Si, _Capitán_?" he asked cautiously, nearing a little – but definitely not too close.

"Take all the men for the patrol! You will go to the rancho La Brea, then to the river, then you will take the trail to the mission."

"All of them? But the _cuartel_ will be empty!"

"Don't question me, _baboso_! Do you think I am an idiot who doesn't know what he is saying?"

"Si, _Capitán_!" the sergeant jumped back. "Oouch… I mean no, _Capitán_… immediately!..." he swirled not sure how to get to the _cuartel_ without passing too close to Monastario.

Something forced Pina to cast a furtive glance at Diego de la Vega.

The young man was leaning comfortably against the back of his chair, rolling his walking stick in his hands and looking at Monastario with such content expression, as if the _commandante_ had just said exactly something he wanted and expected to hear.

* * *

A viper? Right now she looked like the raging panther. Monastario thanked himself that he arranged the _cuartel_ to be empty during their meeting, as such shouts would certainly be heard in the soldiers' quarters.

"Zorro? Zorro? Who is he? How is it possible that one man can reveal and spoil the undertaking planned so carefully… with so much effort, so much resources!" Anna paced up and down through Monastario's office, clenching her fists and almost choking with anger. "He must be caught!"

"Gladly. I will make him curse the day he was born, before he dies," replied gloomily Monastario.

"All you can do is to throw empty threats! Do something!" she yelled turning to the _commandante_.

Monastario thought helplessly, that if anyone else dared to speak to him in such tone, he would strangle him with his own hands. But what could he do now?

Anna breathed heavily for a moment, obviously struggling to calm herself. Finally, she spoke with some consideration:

"You told me the last time you saw him he was saving some craftsman. Arrest that man now. If this bandit came to save him once, he will do it again."

Monastario weighed her words for a while. Yes, the Fox seemed to like this blacksmith… but…

'_The commandante won't bother you anymore. Or I will kill him,_' the Fox's words sounded in his mind.

It was of course no more than a bluff. _El Zorro_ didn't kill, that was certain. And still…

"No. I will not arrest this blacksmith," he replied shortly.

Anna just shrugged her shoulders. Too furious to ask for his reasons she looked for another way.

"So these Indians! He told you they are his friends… Maybe he is one of them?"

Monastario shook his head and this time he clenched his fists.

"He is a caballero. Damn, proud, arrogant…"

"How can you know?" she impatiently interrupted his litany.

"He said something about… not disgracing himself," replied evasively Monastario. "It is the nobleman's way of thinking."

"Even better," nodded Anna. "There are not so many noble families in the neighbourhood. Arrest all their young men and… oh, I don't know, flog someone, torture them until this bandit reveals himself!"

"Tempting. But I cannot do it. Even the army cannot stand against all the landowners in the area… This would lead simply to the rebellion."

"So? The governor sends you reinforcements and you will crush them all at once!" her eyes glittered with new hope. Oh, she was so charming, when she was angry…

"Maybe he would do so… or maybe he wouldn't," Monastario shook his head to regain his ability to think clearly. "He could also start the investigation. It occurs to me, that you advice could lead me to very sad end, Senorita."

As the matter of fact… it was true… And this black bastard said something like this… Was it really so that…

"First you wanted to talk me into the most… disgusting treachery," Monastario started slowly, grimacing as he realised that he unwittingly used the Fox's words, "now to the conflict I couldn't win…"

Was it meant that way? That only his hands would get dirty, and her friends would get rid of both him and the _haciendados_ at once?

"That's silly, _Capitán_, you know I never meant it that way," Anna laughed, her voice much gentler than before. "But now you see that our idea was good. The landowners here are too strong, if you want to control them, you have to destroy the source of their power: their wealth, their lands… We must continue. Even if these Indians run away, we must proceed, find the others…"

"No, Senorita, there is no use to," Monastario said with no regret… but with relief. "Do you feel the wind? It is changing. It will bring rain soon. The chances of your plan are too small now, the risk too high."

Anna bit her lips, not willing to admit the calamity. But suddenly… she raised her head with new caution in her eyes.

"As the matter of fact I feel this wind even too much…" she said quietly.

Monastario for a moment ceased moving and looked around. These whiffs of air...

"Someone opened the window," he whispered, pointing with a slight move of head toward his bedroom. The doors were closed but the slit under them big enough to cause the draught.

"No one can see me here," she replied suddenly weak and the real fear appeared in her eyes. Monastario steered her gently toward the small storeroom, where his coats hung. As soon as he made sure that she is safely hidden, he looked around in search for some weapon. His rapier lay in another room, but his pistol should be…

"Do not do it, _Capitán_," he heard too familiar voice over his ear, as he was just to open the drawer of his desk.

Monastario moved his hand from the drawer's knob and took a few deep breaths to get control of his emotions. He intended to hunt the Fox with all the relentless. However, he intended to start tomorrow.

"You are very busy today, Zorro," he said trying to appear calm and composed.

"Just as you are. You have a visitor, _Capitán_. I'd like to meet him."

"I do not know what you are…"

"You do know. You do," assured him the Fox. "You are meeting someone, whose identity you are very protective about. That is the man I have to speak with."

Good. So the bandit didn't manage neither to see nor hear Anna. Anyway, the _commandante_ couldn't allow it to go any further. No matter how he yearned to make this bandit pay for his today's insult, he had to restrain himself.

"Leave. I will not try to stop or chase you," the _commandante_ said with effort. "Just leave now, or you will die."

"I want to talk with this man," Zorro replied only. "Since you were so kind to arrange a private meeting… we will talk and I will get to know what I want. Call him."

"Leave," repeated Monastario, wondering what he could do. The Fox kept the bared blade in his hand. He didn't stand too near to the _commandante_, there was a distance of few feet between them, but within Monastario's reach there was nothing he could use as the weapon. Perhaps sending all the lancers out of the _cuartel_ was not such a good idea after all.

"You should help me, _Capitán_, but if you do not want to… I won't allow you to stay in my way," said Zorro with the clear threat in his tone, coming nearer.

"All right, so here I am," sounded the female voice behind them. Monastario turned abruptly. Anna stood in the doors of her hiding. She was very pale and nervous - but her eyes glittered with more determination than the _commandante_ ever saw by her before. And she was keeping the pistol in her hands, measuring straight at the bandit.

"Don't move. I will shoot no matter what you do with him," she said to Zorro pointing with the slight movement of the head toward the _commandante_.

Monastario hardly noticed her words, watching with fascination the reaction of his enemy. Even the mask didn't conceal the expression of amazement on the bandit's face and the _commandante_ saw his eyes open wide, as he involuntarily made a small step back, staring at the girl in front of him.

_So, the Fox can be surprised after all, _crossed through the _commandante's_ mind.

As the matter of fact, he was confused by the situation too. Not sure what to do, he just stood so stupidly defenceless, between the girl with the pistol and the bandit with the blade.

"My apologies, _Capitán_. I understand now I offended you unjustly today. No one would be wiser on your place," Zorro finally broke the silence, but he spoke without his usual nonchalance and Monastario noticed in bewilderment that his voice shivered.

"Step aside, _Capitán_," Anna ordered sharply and when Monastario turned again to her, repeated angrily: "Didn't you hear me? Step aside!"

"What?" the _commandante_ asked a bit unconsciously: "What do you intend…"

"Something you couldn't. Kill him," she said numbly and Monastario understood in one small second that even if she was terrified, even if she never did something like this before – now she is going to shoot.

No, no, it wasn't the best solution. The _commandante_ finally gathered his thoughts and a small smile appeared on his face, as he realised that somehow the battle scene shaped very much to his advantage. Finally, he had an upper hand over his enemy. Well, maybe not he personally, but he was going to make use of it.

"Oh, no. I have the accounts with him, I will deal with him," he said menacingly. "Throw your weapon, Fox."

"Be quiet, _Capitán_! He saw me, he knows who I am. I cannot allow him to live and speak with anyone!" called Anna with growing desperation.

Monastario ignored her. Certainly, later he will make sure that the Fox wouldn't cause her any damage, but… later. Right now it was only between the two of them. For all the insults, humiliations, mockeries…

"Throw your weapon!" he almost yelled making a step toward the bandit.

With unpleasant surprise he saw no fear on his enemy's face. Zorro apparently got over the initial shock too. He neither replied, nor obeyed Monastario's order, only looked cautiously around. The usual cocky smile appeared on his face again, even though it seemed a bit forced.

"Are you sure you won't miss, Senorita? Because if you do, the balance of powers will be again at my favour," he said slowly pointing at his blade.

"I won't miss," replied Anna biting her lips, but Monastario realised that such scenario is very probable. Her hands shivered slightly and it was unlikely she had much experience in shooting, especially to a living aim. The small pistol she kept looked rather like a piece of jewellery, not a weapon. Besides, it seemed she could lose her control and get hysterical in any second.

_I won't risk him escaping once again, _decided quickly Monastario.

"He is right. Just hold this pistol, Senorita," he said firmly and ordered to Zorro once again. "And you, throw your weapons, all that you have."

The Fox looked impatiently around again, sighed with irritation and finally unfolded his hands in gesture of surrender. Then he slightly tossed his rapier up, catching it in the middle of the blade's length, heading the hilt toward Monastario.

The _commandante_ eagerly stepped forward to take it.

A second after he was at the floor, writhing in pain. He didn't even notice whether the bandit kicked him or hit him with the hilt… and neither did he manage to find it out, as the bang of the shot in the small room deafened him, making him crouch down with the hand over his ears. Then he only felt a brush of silk over his face, as the bandit passed by him – and it was over.

The door frame to his bedroom was shattered by the bullet, Anna was staying with the useless pistol in her hands, breathing heavily, gasping with the first tears and there was not even a trace of Zorro left in the room.

Monastario sat on the floor, for a fleeting moment wondering why the bandit retreated so quickly. Didn't he want to talk with the conspirators' envoy, get some answers? But, on the other hand, how could he force the woman to confession?

_Perhaps that is the wisest thing you can do when the siren starts to sing, run away closing your ears, _he though with bitter self-irony, now recalling Anna's oblivious face when she said 'no matter what you do with him'.

"You could have killed me," he said, not sure whether he is referring to these words, the shot that passed just over his head or all the intrigues she wanted to talk him into.

Anna took deep breath and almost choked with it, as she simultaneously burst out with tears and furious outcry:

"Damn it! Damn you! To the hell with you and your stupidity! You are the most indolent man I ever knew!" she gasped for the air and for a moment hid her face in her hands. When she looked at him again, she spoke a bit calmer, though the panic was clear in her voice: "It's over for me. I am leaving Los Angeles tomorrow. I cannot give him chance to compromise me."

Leave? Leave Los Angeles? No. Monastario realised with all painful clarity, that Anna Peréz is a cruel, cold, deceitful woman who would sacrifice him in a second if it would serve her purposes… but he didn't want her gone. No, he had to stop her.

"There is no need to. He doesn't even know your name," he said as calmingly as he could, but the girl only shook her head with bitter laughter.

"You said yourself that he is a caballero, he must have seen me somewhere… He knows my face, he knows my name, if he sends some news to the hacienda, Don Alejandro will certainly…"

"Mean gossips. No one is going to listen to the bandit," interrupted Monastario firmly, though he knew for sure that Alejandro de la Vega will believe in each word of the Fox.

Anna Peréz must have known it too.

"Are you blind? People love him!" she cried out. "They will listen to him, the gossips will never end. Don't you understand what it would mean for a woman's reputation? I cannot risk my father going through it," she finished quietly, lowering her head.

_Why didn't she think about it earlier?_ thought Monastario sneeringly, but then compassion grasped his heart.

"Calm yourself, Senorita. Your friends will protect you," he reasoned.

"If they learn I was revealed they will renounce me and kill me for all I know," said coldly Anna and Monastario knew that now she was speaking the truth. "No, no, it is over for me. I am leaving. But I swear, I will do my best to make this masker pay for it… I know who should hear about him and… his days are numbered," she whispered gloomily with darkened eyes.

_He's mine, _wanted to object Monastario, but then he reminded himself the first thing was to stop her from leaving. He searched for new arguments, watching helplessly as she headed for the doors, when suddenly the girl fell over the chair, bursting out in a new wave of tears.

"Oh, I could have been so happy here!" she sobbed with regret, true regret and pain in her voice.

_No, she cannot go. It can't be over now. She is just like me,_ thought Monastario in the moment of rare honesty, searching in panic for a way to stop her from disappearing from Los Angeles and his life.

He found it.

He neared to her chair and kneeled by it.

"Senorita, then I will protect you, no matter what the people say," he said, not caring that his voice and hands tremble. "I am just the simple soldier, but I will gladly offer you my life, if you would do me the honour of considering…"

Anna Peréz shook his hand away and stood up moving aside her chair with loud, unpleasant grate.

"You are an idiot, _Capitán_, if you think I am crying after you," she said clearly, even though the tears were still running on her cheeks – and left the room.

Monastario stood in the middle of his empty office… and the longer he stood, the more empty it seemed.

It was over.

Anna Peréz, no matter who she really was, no matter whom or what she really loved, with all her secrets, and lies, and charm – was gone.

Finally, the _commandante_ heavily walked toward the cupboard and retrieved the bottle of wine. He fleetingly recalled that it is the last of the wine from the de la Vega hacienda, left from his misfortune supper with _Coronel_ Briones… but he didn't care. It was a good, strong wine – exactly what he needed now.

* * *

Everyone has their limits to bear the anxiety, Pina had them too. He got so desperate that finally he didn't care to be cautious anymore.

As soon as he heard the lancers returning to the _cuartel_, he strode straight toward Monastario's office, and though the soldier keeping watch at the yard warned him the _commandante_ doesn't want to see anyone, he burst in with no hesitation.

"_Capitán_, we have to talk," he said firmly. "I know that something wrong is happening here and I know that you are in the middle of some intrigue. Whatever you do has consequences for me as well, so I want to have a voice in it. I won't let you to dismiss me anymore, I won't be satisfied with some lies and orders this time. I want to hear the truth, all of it," he finished quickly before the courage left him.

Monastario raised the head from the glass he was keeping.

"Not now, _Licenciado_," he said quietly.

Having seen his face, Pina disappeared from the room in the second.

Shaken as never before, the _licenciado_ headed dizzily to the tavern, hoping that despite the late hour he will find someone there to talk to… anyone, even some sleepy vaquero whom he could offer wine… just to spend the evening in a company…

Yet the sala was almost empty, with the sole table occupied by Sergeant Garcia and the young de la Vega.

Having called the sham smile to his face, Pina approached to join them… but stopped, discouraged by the gloomy silence surrounding the usually so friendly and serene caballero. So, he just ordered some wine and sat alone in the corner, observing his neighbours.

Judging from the number of empty bottles on their table, it seemed that the two friends were quickly making up for the delays of past few weeks. Still, Garcia, though he longed so much for such occasion, now didn't enjoy it, throwing worried, uncomfortable glances at his silent companion.

"Have you heard, Don Diego," he said finally with faked enlivenment, obviously hoping to cheer up his friend, "that the Fox supposedly appeared today at the _cuartel_? I may tell you, how…"

"Oh, please, Sergeant, just not this," the young man interrupted him with unusual irritation. "I am tired with the imposters in this pueblo."

"Imposters?..." repeated the sergeant in confusion.

"Zorro," the young man corrected himself, waving wearily the hand. "Whatever. Sergeant, can't we just sit in silence and drink?"

Pina thought surprised that de la Vega, who always gladly enjoyed wine but never got drunk, now for the first time overdid his measure. The sergeant must have come to the same conclusion as he noticed cautiously:

"Perhaps we shouldn't, Don Diego… I mean, that if you continue, tomorrow you will feel very bad…"

"Oh, no, Sergeant," laughed the young man dismissively. "I will be fine. Tomorrow."

_Tomorrow, _repeated nostalgically Pina, swirling his glass, thinking how tired he is and how much he would like to simply talk with someone. _Who may be bold enough to claim he knows what tomorrow brings?..._


	10. Good intentions 1

**Good intentions (1)**

"No band of senile fools is going to tell me what to do!" hissed Monastario leaning over the table toward his opponents. "You better guard your cattle, Senores, and your lands, and guard your necks, if you do not want to lose it by your impudence."

He was standing against the whole Los Angeles council, in the middle of the most hellish row since many weeks… and damn, he enjoyed it.

"And you, Monastario, guard these lands and your duties if you do not want to lose your command by your incompetence!" shouted Alejandro de la Vega, half rising from his chair.

Apparently, at least some members of the council also enjoyed the restoration of the previous sincerity and openness in their relations.

"Por favour, we won't solve the problem by the exchange of insults," the _alcalde_ raised calmingly his hands. "Let's return to this letter."

Monastario's sight fell once more at the small piece of paper, signed with the most distinctive letter 'Z' and the _commandante_ felt his blood boil again.

"You dared to summon me here for this? For the letter of some wretched bandit? So, should I perhaps write him an answer?" he foamed. "Is it going to be a new custom here that we will correspond with the criminals? Instead of… instead of crushing the bastards like the vermin they are?"

"_Capitán_, no matter how despicable figure this man is, can't you try to hold your language?" chimed in Alejandro's son with reproach. The hell knows why he decided to come today with his father… At first the boy took a modest place in some corner and Monastario didn't pay attention to his presence, but then he kept throwing some stupid remarks he probably found amusing, and the _commandante_ – extremely irritating.

"If my words offend you, Senor, why don't you leave? You are not even a member of this council," snapped back Monastario.

"But I find this conversation the most interesting. Besides, who would go out in such weather?" replied the young man with airy smile and the _commandante_ with satisfaction noticed the other _haciendados_ roll their eyes.

True, no one could say that the weather in Los Angeles was unstable this year. When after the weeks of heat and drought the rain finally came, it didn't pass for a week so far. Yet, young de la Vega was the only one of the rancheros who complained at it.

"The letter," sighed the _alcalde_. "No matter the author, this letter might be of importance. It suggests that there might be a fiendish plot endangering the lives and freedom of us all."

"If someone really organised all these attacks at the roads… if someone really intended to manipulate the Indians… it would mean that we are facing the group disposing of vast resources and very well organised," noticed Don Cornelio.

Monastario for one small second got a little abashed. He cast another glance on the letter, wondering again why the Fox described with accuracy all what he knew about the conspiracy, but didn't mention even one word neither about… the senorita, nor about the _commandante's_ role in the affair… If he did, Monastario and the dons wouldn't be only yelling at each other… they would likely be engaged in armed confrontation. Apparently the bandit cared for getting rid of the external danger in the first place… but he knew what he knew and this knowledge could turn out dangerous for the _commandante_ someday.

"First of all, we do not know who really wrote this letter," stated Monastario a bit calmer, hoping to seed some doubts and undermine the _haciendados'_ trust in Zorro's name. "It could be anyone; anyone could use this alias and plant this letter by you, _Alcalde_, just to spread commotion in the pueblo. _El Zorro_ hasn't been seen since many weeks so far. All the gossips that he appeared in the _cuartel_ recently are false. He is most certainly gone, or even dead."

"If you think so, why did you announce such ridiculously high reward for his capture?" Don Augustin shrugged his shoulders.

"Ridiculously? I heard that it is well-earned," chimed in young de la Vega, raising his head from some notebook.

"And I heard nothing like this. As the matter of fact, I still didn't hear that he committed any crime," said his father and the note of challenge sounded in his voice, as he looked sternly at the _commandante_.

"He seriously compromised the security of the _cuartel_ last time he appeared. The reward is just the security measure," replied Monastario.

"He only came to help this blacksmith because you challenged him. Besides, _Capitán_, your soldiers are hardly credible witnesses!" laughed Don Juan. "Some of them claim they saw not a man, but the demon, the ghost!"

"He is no more a ghost than he is a criminal," muttered Alejandro de la Vega.

"A ghost! What a morbid idea!" exclaimed his son. "Anyway, I believe that it is the common problem with the ghosts, you never know when they will start to haunt you again," he remarked with a yawn. "But the ghost writing a letter would be a peculiar phenomenon, don't you think, Senores?"

"Exactly, the letter," caught up the _alcalde_ with tired face. "No matter who wrote it, if there is even the shadow of possibility it is true, we have to do something. I propose that we send the report to the governor, asking him for reinforcements and examination of the issue."

"I am not going to ridicule myself! There is no conspiracy! It is no more than a pack of rubbish!" Monastario angrily crushed the letter in his hand.

"You are strangely reluctant to bring this affair into light, _Capitán_. Are you perhaps afraid of the consequences?" stated Alejandro slowly, piercing Monastario with scrutinizing glance. His narrowed eyes, his ironic politeness, immediately brought into the _commandante's_ mind the masked bandit. Damn, it wasn't the first time when Alejandro reminded him about Zorro. Monastario definitely preferred the proud _haciendado_ to yell, at least then he didn't awake such troubling associations.

"What are you suggesting, Senor?" he hissed angrily. "That I am working with the bandits? That I am attacking merchants on the roads? You are forgetting, who is the bandit here!" he raised his voice, throwing the crushed letter on the table. "Your Zorro is! And I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that he is the one plotting with some criminals!"

"So, to sum up your line of reasoning, _Capitán_, you think that the bogus bandit is colluding with the non-existent conspiracy by revealing their agenda to their victims? That would be a very sophisticated plot indeed!" observed the young de la Vega and a few dons, including the alcalde, choked with strangled laughter.

Monastario turned sharply toward the young man. He hated being laughed at.

"You allow yourself too much, Senor. Besides, it is not your place. What exactly are you doing here?" he snarled angrily, but the dandy only raised his notebook:

"Drawing," he replied with most innocent expression and, when Pina leant to him to see the picture, moved it aside with apologizing smile: "I am sorry, it is not finished yet."

Oh, yes, Pina. Pina was there too. It was easy to forget him, as the _licenciado_ during the whole quarrel sat quietly under the wall pretending to be no more than a piece of furniture. Well, generally he was recently very quiet. After the strange display of irritation that Monastario barely noticed, as his thoughts were preoccupied with… with someone he didn't want to recall now, Pina returned to his usual silent and meek disposition. The _commandante_ was very satisfied with it.

"The letter, Senores," sighed the _alcalde_, hiding his face in his palms. "We should do something. If you do not want to ask the governor for help, _Capitán_, why don't we organise the civil watch, just in case, to prevent any further attacks?"

"Launching the investigation by official authorities would be a better solution. I think that…" started young de la Vega, but Monastario, infuriated by the _alcalde's_ proposal, shouted:

"The last thing I am going to allow is for you to wander around pretending to be an army and mess with my duties!"

"We have the right to defend ourselves!" Don Cornelio, usually so calm and composed, unexpectedly lost his temper. "This intrigue was aimed against us!"

"What intrigue? There was a drought, now it is raining! That's all!"

"No, _Capitán_," Ignatio Torres took voice for the first time. He kept silence long, but now he spoke with the certainty that always made Monastario dream about seeing this man on the gallows. "There was something more. Apart from the drought that has been tormenting us so long, there is something strange happening around here. Zorro's letter only confirms my earlier suspicions."

Monastario turned toward him with clenched fists… and stopped. Torres' words sounded so familiar… He heard clearly the hateful voice of his masked nemesis: "The drought that has been tormenting us". Us. Oh, yes, Zorro was not some lost _desperado_, he was one of these men, so arrogant because of their blood and their wealth, one of his enemies, now plotting with them to destroy him… The wrath grasped Monastario's throat and blurred his vision.

"So, you are now sitting here speaking in one voice with the bandit? The traitor? It makes traitors of all of you!" he hissed so hatefully that the men sitting near him flinched back in surprise. "You are siding with him; you are covering for him, because he is one of you!"

The dons looked at themselves for a moment in astonished silence and then… they burst out with laughter.

"You flatter us, _Capitán_," chuckled Don Cornelio, correcting the jacket over his well-rounded belly.

Monastario stared around a bit unconsciously. He really, really hated being laughed at.

"I wasn't referring to you personally," he muttered angrily, but no one paid attention in the new wave of chuckles. Some dons wiped the joyous tears from their eyes.

"You said once that I requited this man, now you are saying that it is one of us behind this mask?" called merrily Alejandro de la Vega. "I like the second charge better, it makes me feel young again."

"Come on, Alejandro, neither of us got rusted yet," Don Augustin leant to his friend, patting his shoulder.

"Oh, certainly, I still remember which end of the blade you grab in your hand and which you stab in your enemy," he replied with a bit dreamy sigh.

Monastario for a moment just stood, abashed, red and angry, listening to the slobbered dons. Even the young de la Vega looked at his father with warm smile… but Alejandro didn't cast even one glance in his direction.

Well, nothing strange. Monastario didn't need the spies to know how the atmosphere at the de la Vega hacienda worsened recently.

All because of An… of her.

When Senor Peréz and his daughter, whose name Monastario so desperately tried to forget, left Los Angeles in an unexpected and almost offensive hurry for their hosts, for a moment the whole pueblo buzzed with gossip. Instead of a wedding, there was a scandal. Alejandro wasn't the only one to blame his son for the failed arrangements. Most of the people commented that it was because of the hesitant and languid disposition of the young man, that the pretty senorita got tired waiting for the proposal, lost her temper and left. And Alejandro, who probably already envisioned many joyous events in his family, was disappointed. Very disappointed. He didn't let his son forget about this disappointment.

It surprised Monastario a little that the boy didn't protest even once against such gossips. But still, perhaps An… perhaps the senorita managed somehow to convince everyone around her, including the young man himself, that this was exactly the reason of her sudden departure? She was a talented liar, and de la Vega never learnt the real her. Fleetingly, Monastario almost felt sorry for him. After all he didn't lose… her because of the young dandy, only because the masked bandit. To the hell with de la Vega and his silly quips, he was no more than the jester… _She left because of the Fox… and the Fox will pay me for it,_ thought vengefully Monastario.

Shaking off the reminiscences, he looked at the _cabildo _with new energy.

"Did I amuse you, Senores? Good. Because what I am going to say now, you may find not so joyous. To start with…" he was interrupted by the doors crackling behind his back and angrily turned toward the intruder, expecting to see Garcia who was to keep the guard under the door.

But it definitely wasn't the fat, slovenly lancer. The man who peeked into the room was… he was slim, tiny and ridiculously elegant.

"I am sorry, but I was told that I will meet here…" he started with an apologizing smile, but Monastario cut him off:

"Out, Senor! You are disturbing the meeting."

"I beg your pardon," the man bowed courteously, yet smoothly sneaked into the room, "but I heard that here I will meet the _commandante_ and the _cabildo_, so…"

"Whatever business you have, Senor, wait outside. I will meet you later," replied Monastario harshly. "Garcia!" he yelled toward the door to ask the sergeant to throw the stranger out and to tell him off for letting anyone inside at the first place.

But the sergeant only helplessly unfolded his hands, silently pointing at the next visitor entering the room, another unknown man, who… who was wearing a military uniform. Worse, a captain's uniform.

"Once again, I beg your pardon, Senores," the unknown dandy used the moment of Monastario's surprise to finish his speech, "but I thought it will be a good occasion to meet both the _commandante_ of the pueblo and the council. My task here will require strict cooperation with all of you."

Monastario stared for a moment at the unknown officer. The man simply entered the room and placed himself under the wall, without the smallest gesture of greeting or salute toward the fellow serviceman. His eyes never left the elegant stranger and suddenly Monastario felt that he might be someone worth listening to.

"What do you mean, Senor?" he asked much calmer.

"I am appointed by the governor," started the stranger looking at Monastario almost apologetically, "in a certain delicate matter. Your letters, Senores," now courteous glance and bow was directed at the surprised _cabildo_, "your complaints for the… for the _commandante_," another glance toward Monastario, full of compassion, but not abashed even a little, "the governor wants them to be examined, I am his emissary in this issue."

_What? _luckily Monastario managed to strangle the surprised exclamation. _What the hell?..._ he thought almost helplessly, struggling not to allow to his face the sign of confusion.

Suddenly he reminded himself about the plea that Don Augustin took to Monterey after Torres' arrest, about some weird calculations of the _cuartel's_ finances that the _cabildo_ sent later… True, Pina told him about it, but… no one ever cared for such things! Why now?... He must have… misheard something….

The _commandante_ cast quick glance at the gathered dons and the first smiles on their faces told him, that he heard well.

"How far goes your mandate, Senor?" asked Monastario sharply.

"It is just an… informal investigation, _Commandante_. The governor wants to get more precise information about this… misunderstanding," replied the emissary soothingly, but Monastario didn't feel calmed at all. 'Informal investigation' meant that the governor sent his trusted friend. So, he really got interested in the matters of Los Angeles… The dons must have come to the same conclusion as their smiles became wider.

"Welcome in our pueblo, Senor," the _alcalde_ took voice in their name. "We kept hoping that our pleas will be considered and we put great expectations in your mission."

"All citizens' requests are always considered with the most attention," replied the emissary with the next courteous bow. "Let me introduce myself to you, esteemed Senores. _Magistrado_ Camero at your service. And my invaluable friend here," he pointed at the officer, "is _Capitán_ Gonzales. I am glad I can count on your cooperation."

"Oh, certainly, you can count on it, _Magistrado_," muttered Alejandro de la Vega.

_They are already feasting my dismissal, _thought gloomily Monastario, noticing with discontent that Pina scattered somehow the pile of papers lying on the chair near him. Really, this stupid _licenciado_ should do better to hide his anxiety. It wasn't time to panic yet. There is a long road between starting the investigation and its results and the _commandante_ had still many assets in his sleeve.

He took a deep breath, concentrating. The first thing would be to finish this misfortunate meeting before it gets out of control. He certainly didn't want to lead his first conversation with Camero in front of the council.

"Senor, you must be tired after the journey. Where do you intend to stay?" he asked hastily. "I will arrange rooms for you and your servants in the tavern. And you, _Capitán_, may prefer to accommodate yourself at the _cuartel_?" he turned with polite smile to the officer… but the man didn't even bother to answer.

"No, no, that's not necessary," replied Camero for them both. "We are in rather numerous company, there are a few lancers with the _capitán_, and I have a handful of servants. We decided to hire the house in town; the one that your fabric merchant wanted to rent."

Monastario peeked through the window. There was not only the carriage that Camero must have used, but also a fully loaded cart, with cargo tightly covered with canvas. Certainly the _magistrado_ didn't travel light… And yes, there were plenty of servants bustling around it… And lancers! Damn, he will have now some soldiers at the pueblo not under his orders!

"Can we arrange the next meeting for tomorrow then?" asked the _alcalde_.

"I'd like to get myself acquainted with the situation first," replied Camero. "In the meantime, you could provide me with the list of your complaints…"

"Don't you have them with you, Senor _Magistrado_?" suddenly sounded the voice of the young de la Vega. Monastario noticed that he was now staying by the window, observing Camero's men, just as the _commandante_.

"Them with me?..." repeated blankly Camero and for the first time his suave expression distorted the shadow of confusion. Monastario smirked with satisfaction – at least that insufferable fop had carped on someone else…

"Our complaints were listed in the letters… in these three letters we sent to the governor. Don't you have them with you?" the young man's voice sounded impatiently, as if he got irritated with the perspective of preparing the documents again.

"Yes, I have them of course," replied Camero slowly. "I just thought you would like to add something."

"And we most certainly will," replied firmly Alejandro de la Vega. "Many things have happened here since our last complaint. Stay out of this, Diego, please."

His 'please' sounded so commanding, that his son only stepped back, farewelling the _magistrado_ with a bow.

When Camero left, all gathered men for a moment remained in tense silence. Monastario absently thought that he will arrest anyone who would try to mock him with some triumphant remark. Yet the first one to speak was the young de la Vega, asking the most casual question:

"That… Gonzales, doesn't appear to be too friendly, does he? Do you know him, _Capitán_?"

"No, I don't. Why?" gnarled Monastario.

"Oh, I just thought that military men always… stay together. You know, because of these uniforms. I thought that they create some… hmm… sense of community," prattled the young man, unaware of impatient glances that some dons sent him. "By the way, do you remember that story of the Prussian cheater who took control over fortress Spandau, just because he appeared there in the stolen uniform with high distinctions? Funny thing how much people are going to believe in just seeing the uniform, don't you agree?'

"Diego, no matter how amusing this story is, it is the last thing we should now…" started angrily his father, but stopped hearing quiet voice of the _alcalde_.

"Diego, are you suggesting that these men are disguised imposters?"

"What? No!" laughed de la Vega. "Why and how could anyone do something so stupid? Such cheat could be so easily disclosed, it would be enough to… well to send someone to Monterey and checked his credentials, so…"

"Diego, please, you are only distracting us," interrupted him Don Augustin."And you yourself are so distracted today. For example these letters, we sent only two of them, don't you remember?"

"I must have forgotten," muttered the young man seeming to be confused, but then he raised his head with slightly malicious glitter in his eyes: "Apparently the _magistrado_ forgot it too."

"Diego, Diego, you were eager to help us with write down our complaints… you believed it to be a good idea. Why aren't you satisfied now, when they finally started to bring effects?" asked gently the _alcalde_.

"Oh, I am satisfied, really!" excused himself the young man. "I am very pleased to see the governor's emissary among us… especially that he is such a clever man with good recognition of local affairs. He barely stepped foot out of the carriage and he already knows the suitable house to rent."

Monastario just stood, leaning his fists over the table top, and listened. The boy was prattling something, the dons were shivering with impatience to grip Monastario's throat, and none of these… irregularities they spoke about was truly suspicious. They all could be explained in the most innocent way. Still, the _commandante_ was the only man here knowing that behind the most recent casual coincidences stood something… more.

But if this were a cheat, it would require the involvement of someone well informed about his conflict with the council, about affairs of the pueblo…

Like, for example, Anna. She knew it all. _Damn, what exactly was in these documents I gave her? _cursed silently Monastario, feeling the sting of panic.

"All right, that's enough for me," he cut the conversations. "I am sending the lancer to Monterey to check the credentials of this man and before I have them confirmed, I am not going to move a finger at his orders."

"That's ridiculous!" burst out Alejandro. "You would do anything just to keep your office a little longer!"

"A few days won't make a difference, Father, and…" started calmingly his son, but he earned only Alejandro's angry glance.

"Not a word more, Diego! You said enough. Now, _Capitán_, if you do not mind we would like to discuss the situation alone."

"Of course, Senores. Feel free to… discuss… as long as you want," said mockingly Monastario and left waving for Pina to follow him.

"Go to this emissary. Ask whether he needs anything, talk with him like… like the lawyer to the lawyer, and bring me some news," he ordered as soon as they were outside. Seeing that the _licenciado_ hesitates, as if wanting to object or say something, he urged him angrily: "What are you waiting for? Go!"

* * *

Pina went toward the house the emissary intended to rent almost dizzy with anxiety and unanswered questions. Was it the same Camero whom López mentioned in his letter? How could he now be the governor's official? Could it all be… the governor's provocation? And if so, the first question was, how will Pina trick himself out of it?

About half an hour later, all his fears were dispersed and he was convinced that Camero is one of the most likable men in California.

The emissary welcomed him with a cordial smile that became even wider when he heard his name – and he referred to López's letter with all openness. Leaving the dealings with the house owner to his subordinates, he immediately invited Pina to another room, ordered some refreshments and started to chat with him as with old acquaintance.

"So you used to live in Mexico, _Licenciado_?" he inquired curiously "I spent some time there too. Perhaps we share common friends."

"I doubt it. I lived far from San Francisco Street," Pina shook his head, amused with the idea that the high official thought they could move in the same circles.

"Oh, oh, I lived there, true, but I visited other quarters too…" laughed Camero with a bit roguish sparkle in his eyes. "Searching for adventure and amusement… Well, mostly amusement. But I am sorry, perhaps recalling my… sins of youth offends such serious man as you, _Licenciado_?"

Pina looked at him incredulously. No, he wasn't joking. The emissary really looked at him… with respect. Now, that was an entirely new experience for the _licenciado_…

"You are too kind for me, Senor _Magistrado_," he muttered unsurely.

"The title will never substitute the experience," said warmly Camero, bowing toward Pina to indicate that the compliment was on him. Then he added with a merry chuckle: "Besides, I owe my title only to the wealth of my family, so there is nothing in it I could brag about."

Pina couldn't resist but chuckle as well, feeling growing liking to this friendly and unpretentious man. Monastario never chatted with him like that.

For a moment in his head clang the shadow of warning. How was it? _The more friendly the man is…_ No, no. The _magistrado_ was a friendly man, that's all. After all, there must be some simply friendly men in this world.

"The matter with loans is not actual any longer. There have been certain difficulties…" said Camero, pouring them more wine. "Tell me, _Licenciado_, have you talked about it with the _commandante_?"

"I have kept the discretion your friends asked me for," replied Pina, getting wary again.

"Good. Very good. I think that we will continue this way," stated Camero with pensiveness.

Pina shook his head. That was slowly becoming too complicated for him to follow.

"But I got the feeling that the _commandante_ is helping you…"

"Yes, he is. But that's how we work," said Camero, and seeing Pina's confused glance, he sighed: "How could I explain it to you, _Licenciado_… Tell me, how much do you know?"

"Not much," admitted Pina. "Your friends were very… mysterious."

"Ah, you met López and Ramírez! Well, no wonder you seemed so scared about the whole undertaking! They like to appear sooo fearsome!" Camero laughed loudly. "Don't worry, they are just two pompous poseurs."

The _licenciado_ almost laughed with him, but then he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. No, the whole affair wasn't as innocent as Camero seemed to suggest.

"They came to the pueblo with the falsified bill," he noticed quietly.

The _magistrado_ stopped laughing and became serious.

"Sí, they came to the pueblo with the falsified bill," he said looking straight in Pina's eyes.

Strange, but such openness immediately calmed him. At least this man was honest with the _licenciado_. He listened gladly, when the emissary continued.

"Our company, our association… you could say we are traders, my friend. We are… firm… and yes, we are not shy of the methods that a mild-tempered person could call controversial. But it shouldn't be difficult for you, _Licenciado_, after all this _commandante_ you used to work for is not an angel as well, I suppose?"

_Used to work for? When did it become the past?_ thought Pina in confusion. Camero must have took his silence for confirmation, as he nodded and continued:

"As for all these secrets – it is just business, my friend. A bit of discretion is good for trade," he smiled a little jokingly. "That's why we are so protective about the identity of our… partners."

Perhaps it was logical. Pina wanted it to be logical. Trade. It sounded good.

"So, how do you know who your partners are?" he asked and Camero beamed, as if he was to show him his favourite toy.

"Let me explain," he said unwrapping the leather folder he had with him and taking out the bunch of eagle's feathers. Pina's eyes widened at the strange markings cut on them.

"This one means the member," said Camero raising one of the feathers. "All our members have such and before… before the deal, they present it. So, this is mine," he said hiding it in the separate pocket, "and this one is for you. Hide it well, _Licenciado_, and do not show it too eagerly," the tone of strange warning sounded in his voice as he handed him the feather and for a small second Pina wondered whether he should take it.

People around whispered about a fiendish plot. About hired robbers. Spies.

Pina had so many bad premonitions before. Shouldn't he trust them?

But, after all, being honest, so really, really honest: wasn't it just what he always wanted? Strong friends who would appreciate his services… and who could protect him?

Monastario didn't respect him. And, what's more, it seemed that he soon will be unable to protect not only his allies, but also himself.

So, _Licenciado_ Pina took the feather, slowly running his fingers down the cuts on its side.

"Now, this is the sign of the messenger," continued Camero pointing at another pattern of markings. "If someone brings you a message together with such feather, it means that he knows nothing about us, but the message he carries is trustworthy."

"And this one?" asked Pina taking the third type of the feather, with a big part of pinion cut off.

"Ah, this… Nothing pleasurable," Camero stuttered a little. "If someone shows you such feather… but no, no one would set such task upon you, _Licenciado_. Forget it," he finished quickly hiding the feathers in the folder.

"Now, _Licenciado_, as for your _commandante_… He appears to be very… unpredictable man, with his allegiance only to his own interests. Forgive me for speaking in such way about your former patron, but you know I am right. He would switch sides the first moment he decided that would serve him better…" sighed Camero as if wondering about people's unreliability. Then he leaned to Pina with a small smile: "And that is exactly what I need to know. As soon as he switches sides, I must know it."

_They want a spy close to Monastario… _realised Pina, _No, no, they only want to make sure they won't be cheated. That's wise. Of course that Enrique serves no one but himself._

Still, he couldn't resist the impression that there was something… ugly about it. Whatever could be said about Monastario, they had a deal and actually… strange, but actually, the _commandante_ never broke it.

_But he would, if he only found it useful. He doesn't care for me more than for a servant. I had more than enough proofs for it, _thought bitterly Pina and, seeing that Camero waits for his answer, calmly nodded.

The _magistrado _smiled again and continued:

"You will tell no one about our conversation. You will officially still work for the _commandante_. Stay close to him. If he appoints you to the contacts with me concerning my investigation – the better, we will have the occasion to meet often."

"There is one thing I do not understand. You belong to this association and you are here as the governor's emissary?" asked shyly Pina and, when Camero signed he does not understand the question, he gathered his courage and précised. "The governor's mandate… you really have it?"

"Of course," laughed the _magistrado_, luckily not seeming to be offended.

"Good," sighed Pina with relief, "as the _commandante_ just sent someone to Monterey to check it."

"He did?..." Camero narrowed his eyes and stiffened for a second. "Oh. Really. What a hot-headed man… Well, _Licenciado_, as I told you, there is nothing to worry about," he stood up, signing that the meeting was over.

Pina was already at the door, when he turned back with hesitation.

"One last question, if you allow, _Magistrado_… You spoke about trade. What do you mostly trade with?"

Camero stood in silence for a while, before he replied with a courteous smile.

"Land. Mostly land."

"Ranchos? Estates?" précised Pina.

"Yes. Very big estates," nodded the emissary and his eyes glittered as if he found something funny in this answer.

* * *

_True or lie?_ thought Monastario, tossing in his bed through the sleepless night. _Is it the next scene of this plot? I could learn to know. I could go to him and throw Anna's feather on his desk, and watch his face… But if he isn't one of them, the price would be too high… If I make one false step now, it will be my end._

He thought bitterly how people in the pueblo must feel happy with his troubles. Oh, what bad timing this emissary had! If he had arrived two weeks earlier, he would have seen the cells in the _cuartel_ loaded with the bandits and heard at least some _haciendados_ speaking about Monastario with respect. But after… after the senorita left, the _commandante_ became rather… ticklish.

When on the next day after her departure Don Alfredo came asking that the lancers chase thieves who tried to rob his _hacienda_, Monastario ordered him thrown out of the _cuartel_. Then he fined some vaqueros that blocked the street with the broken carriage and as they happened to be de la Vega vaqueros, in few hours the _commandante_ had on his head not only half of the _cabildo_ demanding apologies to Don Alfredo, but also very irritated Alejandro, shouting something about mistreatment of his men. Oh, and there was also Padre Felipe, defending some natives that Monastario expelled from the pueblo, as he somehow couldn't bear the view of Indians any more… Finally the _commandante_ ordered them all out and closed the gates of the _cuartel_… and it was obvious for everyone that the short period of sweet peace in Los Angeles was over.

Yes, now they all would welcome his dismissal, he saw it in their smiles when the _magistrado_ arrived… True, it was never his intention to be... liked. He wanted respect and obedience, not popularity. And yet it wasn't comfortable to know that if he got accused, there wouldn't be even one man here speaking for him.

Well, perhaps Pina would. It wouldn't make any difference, but still…

And if Camero was an imposter? No matter how unbelievable it seemed, the _commandante_ recalled gladly all these strange, small remarks of the young de la Vega. Of course, the _magistrado _could simply have forgotten about the _haciendados'_ letters, after all most officials didn't like to bother themselves too much with paperwork, leaving that to their secretaries… He could have heard about the house for rent in some tavern on his way, or even in Monterey… And Gonzales might be a new officer, recently arrived from Spain. On the other hand, de la Vega put it in such way… _Ouch, who could say I will seek comfort in the prattle of some miserable jester! I have fallen low indeed! _gnarled Monastario, covering his head with the pillow.

To appease his troubled mind, he started to recall the members of the most prominent families in the neighbourhood, wondering which of them could be the Fox. He named them one by one, trying to keep an alphabetical order, one face after another… He came as far as to Don Cornelio Esperon and, having decided in his last conscious thought that neither the corpulent _haciendado_, nor his pretty, though brazen, daughter can appear as the masked bandit, he finally managed to fall asleep.

* * *

On the next morning Monastario woke up in a better mood, ready to act. To start with, he wanted to get as much information about the emissary as possible, so that he would be well prepared to their first substantial conversation. When he saw the group of lancers chatting on the yard, for a moment he stood in the doors of his office and listened, hoping for some news from the tavern.

Unfortunately the soldiers seemed to be even less oriented than their _commandante_.

"What exactly is the _magistrado_ here for, Sergeant?" asked one of them.

"He will be reading a lot of papers to check whether things here are in order and people are treated justly," preached to them Garcia with very wise expression.

"Why does he have to read the papers to learn it? Everyone sees how the things are," noticed Reyes, shrugging his tiny shoulders.

"I don't know, but the people from the government always read a lot of papers," Garcia kept the tone of expert.

"And then?"

"Then they write papers for other people in government to read."

"Ah, I understand," for a moment the corporal seemed satisfied, but then he once more furrowed his eyebrows in confusion: "And the people are treated more justly after that?"

"Yes, because then they raise taxes for everyone," muttered Garcia, adding quieter: "and cut of the payroll for the lancers if the _commandante_ is found guilty."

_And dismiss the commandante, _finished gloomily Monastario this astute analysis, nearing to the group.

"Have you perhaps talked with these new soldiers that arrived with the _magistrado_? Have they been in the tavern yesterday?" he asked, but the lancers only shook their heads.

"Neither of them left their house," answered Garcia and Monastario hummed angrily. Discipline of these men was the last thing he needed. Now he could count only on Pina… who, by the way, somehow forgot to report to the _commandante_ yesterday.

"Go to _Licenciado_ Pina and ask him to be so kind and visit me if he finds time," he muttered bitingly to Reyes.

The corporal stood motionless, staring at the _commandante_ with surprised eyes.

"Fetch him here immediately!" yelled Monastario and Reyes' face beamed with understanding.

Waiting for Pina, the _commandante_ wondered how to organise his meeting with the emissary. Should he perhaps now visit him with all the documents, to appear so open and professional? Or perhaps the neat dinner with good wine would be more in place? Damn, he needed here some advice…

He was close to sighing with relief, when he saw Pina in the gate.

"_Licenciado_, I have been expecting you since yesterday," Monastario remarked in a slightly offended tone. "Come to my office and tell me what you have managed to learn," he said quietly and turned, but Pina stopped him.

"I am afraid I do not have much to report," he said hesitantly. "Camero was send here by the governor, he doesn't seem to be prejudiced neither against you, nor against the dons… that's all."

"Oh, please, have you forgotten how to deal with such issues?" bridled Monastario, whispering with irritation: "What is he like? What are his expectations? Is he the man to bribe? To threaten? Do I have to teach you now?"

"No, but… he is just hard to read," Pina stared at the dust under his feet.

"All right then. Go to him again and ask if he wants to visit the archives today. If not, pass him my invitation for dinner," sighed Monastario. "Just open your eyes a bit wider this time."

"I will, certainly," nodded the _licenciado_ and quickly turned so eager to leave, that he almost collided with Alejandro de la Vega entering through the gate.

"_Capitán_, I am afraid I have bad news for you," said the don, helping Pina to keep balance.

_Now what? Did they already manage to make some arrangements with the magistrado? _Monastario immediately boiled with anger. _I won't allow them to mock me!_

"Keep them to yourself," he snarled angrily turning back, but the _haciendado_ called after him.

"_Capitán_, listen! It is important."

Monastario froze. Something was off here. Alejandro's voice was not challenging or ironic, but… did he dare to speak to the _commandante_ with compassion?... He slowly turned to the _haciendado_ again and listened.

"One of my suppliers was arriving at dawn at the hacienda… the road was too muddy and he rode off it…" started Alejandro and Monastario realised with astonishment that he is hesitant how to approach the subject. "Then he noticed down in the ravine the body… I am afraid it is your lancer, _Capitán_, he is dead."

The lancer. He sent yesterday the lancer to Monterey.

Dead?

"Where is he?" asked Monastario in the silence that fell on the yard, as the lancers around him ceased even to breath, looking at one another in disbelief.

"Still where he was found. Diego insisted that you would prefer to see exactly where and how he died. I will show you the way."

It was a mistake. No one would kill _his _lancer. It could be someone in a blue jacket, or someone in a stolen uniform… And these fools just panicked that's all. Why didn't they bring the body here? If they had done it, he would have known eveything already. Now he has to ride so long before he makes sure…

"Your son reads too many books," gnarled Monastario, saddling the horse. He could send someone, but he wanted to see what really happened as soon as possible.

He fought with harness, somehow all these belts didn't want to go in the right place. It crossed through his mind that actually he should ask one of the lancers to do it, but, not knowing why, he didn't say anything and when Garcia neared to help him, he moved him harshly aside.

"Shall we go with you, _Capitán_?" the sergeant asked quietly. "Or do you want us to follow you with the cart for the body?"

"We will send the cart from the hacienda. You could now notify Padre Felipe, to prepare the service," called Alejandro and when Monastario didn't comment, the sergeant nodded.

The _commandante_ was already in the saddle when he noticed that Pina is crumbling on the horseback too.

"What are you doing, _Licenciado_?" he asked sharply. "There is no need for you to ride with me."

"I will write a report… a death certificate…" muttered feebly Pina.

"You don't have to do anything like this," cut him off Monastario, but when Pina in spite of this followed him and Alejandro, he didn't pay attention to the lawyer anymore.

_If someone really killed my lancer he will regret it,_ thought vengefully the _commandante_ as they were leaving the pueblo. _I swear he will._

There was plenty of violent death around. Monastario killed people in fight, or sent them to the gallows, or to penal colonies where they were bound to die in a few months… That was understandable and simple. But if someone killed his lancer… it was like the worst offence thrown straight into his face.

_No one would dare. No one,_ repeated Monastario. After all, usually the view of the uniform was enough for the people to quiet and for the tavern's tussles to cease. _No one would dare to challenge me in such way._

Suddenly the _commandante_ realised, that none of the lancers he had in Los Angeles was killed. The worst thing that happened so far was when one of the soldiers got a nasty cut through the face. Very nasty cut, that left very nasty scar. The boy fully recovered, but his face was deformed for a lifetime. The other lancers laughed at him that he won't find any woman willing even to look at him… Though, no one can measure women's defiance. Anita Delgado, the prettiest girl at the pueblo, who earlier paid no attention to the poor soldier, even if he made sweet eyes to her since months, after this accident dragged him to the back room of her father's bakery and did something that Padre Felipe with all severity forbade young girls to do.

Monastario smirked recalling the fuss the baker made later, demanding compensation for seducing his daughter. The _commandante,_ bored with the commotion, closed the baker in one cell and the guilty soldier in another – but then he had the girl crouching at the gate and throwing herself to his knees all in tears each time he tried to exit, begging him to release them both. Finally it was Garcia who found the solution to the problem. In his report, the lancer's wound magically prolonged to his shoulder, leaving him unable to further service. The boy received nice indemnity and the piece of land, the girl got the ring and the baker was soon to get a grandson to pamper.

"You are laughing, _Capitán_?" Alejandro's voice interrupted his musing.

Monastario bridled at the tone of condemnation in his voice, but he couldn't bear someone claiming that the _commandante_ was laughing at the death of his soldier.

"I was thinking about that lancer who got wounded through the face a few months ago," he replied.

"Ah, Manuel," recalled de la Vega. The slight smile appeared on his face too, but faded quickly. "I am afraid that this time we cannot count for such happy ending," he sighed turning his horse from the trail into a small ravine.

At first Monastario noticed only the palomino horse bound to the tree and Alejandro's son sitting near it. And only then, after casting the first glance at the young man, the _commandante_ finally realised that something really bad happened.

The boy was so… dirty.

The rain was still drizzling and both Monastario and Alejandro wore long, dark coats, but the young de la Vega was only in one of his usual fair suits, now miserably ruined by wet grass, mud and rain. Yet the dandy didn't seem to care this time, neither for the stains on his trousers and sleeves, nor for the trickles of water dripping from his hair – he just sat with a bare head in gloomy silence... Seeing the arriving men, he didn't stand up, only wordlessly pointed at the body lying just near the rock he was sitting on. It was half hidden in the grass, but the colourful lancer's uniform was clearly visible.

When the _commandante_ leant over the corpse, de la Vega removed the scarf covering the face of the dead man. Monastario fleetingly noticed that his knuckles were bruised to blood as if he hit at something harsh with his fist. _Did he again fall off something?_ he mused numbly, but all his thoughts were occupied by the body of the murdered man.

It was his lancer, there could be no doubts about it, lying here with one big wound in his breast. Just through the heart. Whoever did it was shooting simply to kill… and he was a good shooter.

"Poor Felipe," sighed Alejandro nearing to them. Pina left somewhere behind, struggling to dismount from the horse as if such effort was beneath his strengths. "So young… How long was he in service? No more than two years, wasn't he?"

"Yes… I think so…" nodded Monastario a bit ashamed that he didn't remember. He didn't know. The soldier was already here when he took command.

For a moment he was surprised with the clenching grief he felt, recalling that only yesterday the boy stood in front of him so alive, taking the orders slightly abashed as usual when he spoke directly to the _commandante_.

Then the grief was gone and Monastario felt the burning fury… together with the sting of anxiety. It was as if someone attacked him directly. Someone really did it. Someone was… bold enough, confident enough, to throw him the most insulting challenge.

Someone here didn't fear him at all.

"I asked some native boys from the hacienda to check the trails," said heavily Alejandro's son. "The ground is so muddy that they were still visible, but they led them only to the road to the pueblo. Then there were too many other tracks and they got lost. Yet, whoever did it, he was heading for the pueblo."

Monastario nodded. Well, probably his lancers wouldn't manage to read even so much from the muddy road.

"This is the man you sent to Monterey yesterday?" asked the young man.

"Yes," replied absently the _commandante_.

"He has still his purse," de la Vega pointed at the pouch fastened to the belt of the lancer, "So he was not killed by robbers. Or did he have something precious in the saddlebags?"

"No," Monastario was getting slightly irritated. Did this bookworm now decided to play in the investigation? Nevertheless, he checked the lancer's purse – it was intact. Few pesos for a short stay in Monterey and Monastario's letter to the governor were still there. The _commandante_ stood up, when the next question of the young man forced him to look at the body once more.

"Could you tell, _Capitán_, whether he was shot from the musket, or the rifle, or something else?..."

"Such big wound? It must have been musket," replied Monastario with a sigh. Wasn't it obvious?

"And you sent him to verify the emissary's credentials?" repeated slowly de la Vega.

"Yes, I just told you that," groaned Monastario, thinking that his patience with this boy is just to finish.

And then he froze.

The emissary. _Magistrado_ Camero.

Why didn't he think about it earlier? Not everyone here had the musket, it was an expensive weapon, too powerful for petty robbers. But all the lancers did… and _Magistrado_ Camero had the soldiers with him. What's more, if he was the imposter, he would have a good reason to stop the lancer from completing his assignment...

For a moment Monastario felt the wave of relief. There was no damn investigation, the governor didn't know anything about Camero's mission and Monastario's position was safe. He almost smiled triumphantly, but then the fury returned with double strength. So, Camero not only dared to kill Monastario's man, he also intended to cheat him… _He would give me orders and act as my superior! _bridled the _commandante_.

"Who knew where you sent him?" he heard quiet voice of the young de la Vega.

"Everyone knew!" hissed Monastario. "I told it to your whole _cabildo_, then I gave him the orders in the middle of _cuartel_! Anyone could tell the emissary about it!"

"Now, that goes too far," started angrily Alejandro. "You have no grounds to accuse Senor Camero… _Licenciado_?..." he stopped, turning to Pina, who suddenly curled on the ground.

"For Heaven's sake, Tomás, the last thing I need is you fainting here! I told you it won't be the place for you!" called Monastario torn between disgust and a shadow of compassion, dragging Pina aside and seating him in such way that he didn't see the corpse. Alejandro neared to help too, but when the _licenciado_ signed that they can leave him, both men quickly returned to the nascent quarrel.

"I see what you both are suggesting and I do not like it," said Alejandro. "Yesterday you voiced your doubts, Diego, childish, but let it be. I know you had good intentions. Then you wanted to verify the emissary's credentials, _Capitán_. Miserable attempt to save your office, but I suppose you have the right to do it. But nothing, nothing entitles you to accuse the emissary of such crime!"

"Yes. I didn't think… I should have…" young de la Vega started but then silenced, biting his lips. Then he only shook his head stating with regret: "And now the boy is dead."

"There could be thousands of possible reasons and culprits…" started Alejandro, yet Monastario cut him off:

"But the most likely is Camero. He ordered this man killed, fearing the results of his assignment."

"You'd better find some proof for it!" shouted de la Vega, now really angry. "Or, better yet, find the man who did it! You owe it to this poor boy! Debating here won't change anything, so just start doing something!"

Monastario prepared to snap back, but to his surprise Alejandro's son stood up with unexpected energy.

"You are right, Father, as usual," he said and there was something that sounded like gratitude in his voice.

* * *

Pina was sitting in his office and crying. He couldn't help the tears running down his face.

_It is not fair, _the desperate thought returned over and over to him. _Why did something like this happen to me?_

He did nothing wrong, he had no evil intentions. He was acting in his best will. Why had he to be involved in the death of this man?

_I was only talking, it was no more than the conversation. Why do I now have to carry this on my conscious? And if anyone learns that it was me who informed Camero, they will blame me for this death. That is not fair._

Oh, he had no doubts that it was Camero who killed the lancer. Apparently the _magistrado_ had no credentials and there was no governor's mandate. Yet, it didn't interest Pina at all. He was just sitting and crying, pitying himself, embittered with the world that cheated him so…

The lancer. No, he didn't know him, he didn't remember his name and he barely recalled his face from the plaza or the _cuartel_. Somehow he couldn't find in himself to grieve over the man he knew nothing about, but that was not the point. The _licenciado_ didn't cry over the lancer, only over himself. He was the victim here.

_Why do I have to be involved in this death? I meant nothing wrong, _he repeated.

And he was scared. Very scared. When he thought in what kind of affair he got trapped into, he couldn't help the new outburst of tears.

_All I want is a peaceful and safe place to live. And all I get are worries and fears. I am just the most miserable man in the world, _he concluded, drowning in despair.

Yet when the man cries for long hours, finally he finds no more tears in his eyes.

Finally Pina's eyes dried too.

He wasn't ready to face Camero, or to speak to Monastario, or to take any heavy decisions, but he knew he should do something to disperse the gloomy thoughts. The best idea would be to force himself to eat something… and then he could get drunk and escape his despair for a few hours. Perhaps tomorrow he would feel better.

_I meant nothing wrong, it is not my fault. I cannot let it to destroy me, _he stated, for a moment feeling shadow of pride for being so resilient.

* * *

Monastario stood in the church, where friends of the killed lancer kept watch and prayed over his body and wondered how long it is expected of him to remain here.

He didn't want to stay. He wanted to do something.

At first, he wanted to arrest Camero the first thing after arriving to the pueblo. Perhaps it was good that he rode so far to see the body, because on his way back he had the time to cool down and think it over.

To start with, there was no proof that the murder was ordered by the _magistrado_. Oh, Monastario had no doubts about it – but the others most likely wouldn't believe him, just as Alejandro didn't. All the people in the pueblo were sure that Camero is the governor's envoy, sent to examine Monastario's offences. If the _commandante_ would try to arrest him now, they would consider it is as a trick to defend his position.

So, he needed the proof. He could send more men to Monterey, this time at least few of them… but suddenly it dawned to him that it might be unwise to decrease the manpower of his garrison too much. How many people were with the _magistrado_? No more than two or three lancers with Gonzales, but these servants… As far as Monastario could recall, they didn't look like the men whose main activity is ironing the _magistrado's_ shirts… Certainly they knew how to put up a good fight too…

And this house… Now Monastario noticed that the house Camero chose to rent was perfect to defence: far from other buildings, with closed yard and high walls around it.

_I suspect that you recommended it, Senorita, _he thought bitterly. _You certainly… calculated it all precisely._

So, the _commandante_ couldn't afford sending too many lancers out of the pueblo – and he was sure that the road to Monterey will be closely watched now.

He shifted anxiously his weight from one foot to another, running impatient glance over the faces of people gathered in the church. Are they going to spend the whole night here? What for? Yes, yes, the death is a tragedy, of course… but the best way to cope with it is revenge, not mumbling some prayers!

And there was something else. If Camero's aim was simply to prevent the lancer from getting to Monterey… why didn't he hide his body? It lied in the ravine so close to the trail, sooner or later someone would certainly find him. Camero must have foreseen it.

_He wanted it to be a message… a message for me, _thought gloomily Monastario. _To show me my place. To show me, that he is stronger. _

So, what grounds did this man have to be so bold, so conceit, that he didn't fear to throw the open challenge to the _commandante_ in his pueblo?

_I must get to know, _decided Monastario and, unable to lose any more second, pushed his way through surprised and indignant crowd, exiting the church.


	11. Good intentions 2

When the _commandante_ thought later about his adventures from that night, he really didn't understand how he could have done something so stupid as going to Camero's house alone. He should, as usual, send someone – if not the lancers to keep an eye on it under the pretext of patrol, then at least some trusted men, disguised as workers, or drunkards, to wander near and observe. But, no, he was probably too shaken, too impatient, he didn't want to wait… so he walked straight toward this house, alone and angry.

He stopped for a moment on the opposite side of the street, observing the house through the lashing streams of rain. It was already long after the sunset and there were lights in the windows. Certainly the _magistrado_ was inside… but Monastario didn't want to confront him now, not until he manages to catch some of man's secrets. So, he only stood in darkness trying to notice anything of interest. Unfortunately, the thick curtains in the windows prevented any passerby from seeing what is happening inside the building. The _commandante _swirled impatiently, feeling unpleasant chill of his clothes soaking with the rain. There was no use in standing here, but what about checking the yard?

The main gate was closed and barred, but in the side wall there was a second narrow pass for servants and suppliers. It was open… far from any window… hidden in deep shadow… Monastario, without thinking much, or rather without thinking at all, quickly crossed the street and sneaked through it.

The yard wasn't big. Almost the whole space was taken by the _magistrado's_ carriage and this second cart, still not unloaded. In the stables on the opposite side, some men were sitting near the small fire, yet the vehicles hid Monastario from their sight and he made calmly a few steps along the back side of the house. In spite of the rain, some of the windows from this side of the house were open and he was just to peak through it, when someone exited the back doors with the loud crash and headed for the stables, passing in the distance no more than few yards from the petrified _commandante_.

"What are you all doing here?" sounded the angry voice. "That's how you keep watch, drowsing over the warm fire? Scared of rain? You and you, go and walk around the building, see whether no one is nosing around. And you two, guard the side gate."

A few men, muttering some quiet profanities, reluctantly left the cover of the stables, heading toward the gate.

Monastario held his breath, trying to squeeze himself into the building's wall, finally chilled with the realization that sneaking here was not the wisest thing to do. His instinct whispered that if his presence is discovered, explaining it to the _magistrado_ will be the last of his problems. Oh no, Camero probably won't even ask about it. Tomorrow, Monastario's body will be simply found in another ravine and, just as it should be done in the moment of crisis, Gonzales will take control over the garrison as the acting _commandante_ from the _magistrado's_ nomination.

_You went straight into his hands like the last idiot, _concluded his instinct.

Monastario started to move as cautiously and quietly as he could along the house wall, his eyes never leaving the men walking toward the gate, praying that none of them would turn their head in his direction… Luckily, they were not eager to look around in the pouring rain, but two of them remained on guard in the gate, curling themselves to make the best use of the miserable shelter it gave – and literally blocking the narrow passage. Monastario bit his lips in confusion. So, the way out was closed…

He made few steps deeper into the shadow to get more distance from the guards. Once he will be safely hidden, he will try to…

He barely manage to refrain himself from outcry when the darkness behind his arm… moved.

Apparently the deepest piece of the shadow was already taken.

As soon as Monastario saw – or rather felt – the familiar black clad figure by his side, his hand immediately ran toward the hilt of his weapon. The Fox did the same, but they didn't even manage to bare the whole blades, when they froze, hearing one of the men in the stables calling:

"Have you heard it? Something under the house?"

"I haven't heard anything," replied another voice, but nevertheless someone stood up and started slowly squeezing himself between the carts in their direction.

For the second, both the _commandante_ and the bandit ceased moving. Then Zorro first pushed his blade into the scabbard, with impatient shrug showing Monastario empty hands. After a moment of hesitation, the _commandante_ reluctantly followed his gesture.

He had to admit, that the situation was a bit… complicated.

The guard slipped on the muddy soil and fell, with a loud bump bruising some part of his body, filling the whole yard with loud curses. In this moment of commotion, Monastario felt the Fox pulling his sleeve. When he looked at his direction, the bandit silently pointed him the nearest window, jumping inside the house with one swift movement.

The _commandante_ had no choice but follow him.

Luckily the room was empty. For a moment they just curled under the window, clanging tightly to the wall, relatively safely hidden behind the big sofa, listening to the steps of the misfortunate guard who finally reached the house and slowly examined the dark corners, so thorough, that he even moved aside some old barrels and boards, leaning his back under the widow frame just over their heads…

Monastario sat on the floor petrified, not only because of caution, but also of contradictory emotions that almost made him dizzy.

Damn, he wanted now so many things!

First of all, this man sitting near him. This bandit. Monastario wanted to grip his throat, engage him in fight and win, he wanted to tear his mask off and find out the face and name behind it, and he wanted to send him to gallows and see his last look when he, finally beaten, will farewell the world and the life… The _commandante_ clenched his teeth to strangle the moan of hate and fury.

But he also wanted to get Camero, reveal his true motives to these fools in the pueblo and make him pay for his impudence, for his smugness… for the fact that he forced the _commandante_ to hide in dark corners… like a bandit and in the company of the bandit… Camero threw him the challenge and Monastario very much wanted to show him, what end the idiots who dare to throw the challenge to him met.

Who knows, perhaps right now he wanted to get Camero even more than he wanted to get the Fox.

Finally, in shortest perspective, the _commandante_ also wanted to get out of this affair alive.

Sometimes the shortest perspective is most decisive.

So Monastario, in spite of all his emotions, just sat very calmly and quietly, till the man under the window finally finished his search and they heard him moving away, the sound of steps slowly disappearing in darkness.

The Fox cautiously shifted into more comfortable position.

"So, you are an unwanted guest here as well, _Capitán_?" he whispered, but somehow even his whisper was mocking.

"I have the right to lead the investigation," replied Monastario irritated with the suggestion of similarity between their positions.

"The right won't help you to get out of here. We will have to…" started the Fox but silenced and stiffened, as they heard someone entering the adjacent room.

"I am so glad you finally arrived, Senor. I am sure you remember I have your not so small cargo I am very eager to get rid of?" said unknown man.

"Of course. Of course," that was certainly the voice of Camero, courteous and quiet. "But it must wait a bit longer. We brought the second part of the cargo, I don't have the place to store two carts. Be patient, my friend."

"Oh no, no, that is not what I agreed for," the visitor, apparently resilient to the _magistrado's_ charm, raised his voice with irritation. "The plan was different, Ramírez was to come for it weeks ago and move it to your smithy. And what happened? There is no Ramírez and no smithy, and I still have that damn cart in my shed, that is going to send me straight to gallows if someone checks its content!"

They heard a loud cling, as if someone put away the glass or the mug too abruptly.

"I know that the plan was different! Nothing goes as planned in this damn pueblo!" Camero almost gnarled. Monastario smiled slightly at the fact that the confident façade of this suave snake finally shattered… but his smile quickly faded, as he caught the glance of the Fox grinning with evident satisfaction.

_Since when I am on the same side with this rascal? Of course I am not!_ gnarled silently the _commandante_.

"Senor, do you realize that I run the tavern?" continued Camero's guest in the next room. "It means customers, a lot of customers. One of them might finally, through accident or curiosity, look into this damn cart! Who is going to save my skin then?"

Monastario grimaced in confusion. Certainly this voice didn't belong to the tavern owner from Los Angeles. So, did it mean that he had some supporters outside the pueblo? Zorro in the meantime shifted a little and craned his neck to peek into the adjacent room, but probably in vain, as he sat back with disappointed expression.

"A bit more of patience. I will take care of this," replied calmingly Camero, in control again. "Now, go home and do not visit me here anymore. I will contact you soon."

They heard doors open and close and then Camero sighing with fatigue. Then the third voice spoke with respect indicating that it belonged to the servant:

"Senor, the _alcalde_ of the pueblo brought you earlier today the list of the council's complaints. I told him you will analyze it will all due attention and meet him later."

"What? Also the _alcalde_? Oh, why does everyone here have to be so overzealous! I hate this place already," Camero almost moaned. "Now, let's go upstairs, we must think what to do with our cargo."

"The cargo… tell me more about it…" whispered quietly the Fox, sending wistful glance toward the adjacent room, but they only heard Camero and his assistant climbing the stairs.

When the sound of the steps silenced, Monastario smirked. Ramírez's name and the mention about the smithy was all he needed to confirm his suspicions, and this mysterious cargo was a good starting point to further investigate. The only problem was that before the _commandante_ will be able to proceed with examining it, he will have to deal with the present, rather troublesome situation.

He stirred not sure what to do. Fighting with the Fox was temporarily out of question, it would alarm the guards in the second. The best thing would be to get out in some clever way, leaving the bandit here alone in straits, but Monastario had no idea how to do it. As the matter of fact, he had no idea how to get out in any way, clever or not… Shameful, but he couldn't help putting some hopes in his masked companion. After all, this damn bandit always got away, perhaps now he also had already prepared some magic way of escape? And it seemed that he didn't mind a little ceasefire… the _commandante_ cast a shy glance in Zorro's direction and froze in surprise.

_And what is he doing? Has he gone loco, or what? _Monastario thought stunned, seeing that the Fox carefully took off his cape, folded it and cleaned with it his gloves and shoes from mud and droplets of rain. Only when the bandit started to wipe out the trails of wet soil from the carpet, did the _commandante_ understood his intentions.

"Do the same and be thorough," whispered Zorro handing him the black bundle. "We wouldn't like our hosts to get oriented they have been observed, would we? And since we are already here, it would be nice to look around. It is not an easy place to visit."

Monastario at first bridled a little at the bandit giving him orders, but then he obeyed. It would be good to get out of here unnoticed and without leaving any trails, the _magistrado_ was too cautious even now... When the he finished, the Fox was already in the next room, nosing in the best through Camero's desk. The _commandante_ looked impatiently around.

"There is no time for this. Someone might hear us!" he hissed. Seeing that the bandit has no intention of stopping his search, he threatened angrily: "I am leaving."

"As you wish. But you do realize, _Capitán_, that your death would be the most convenient thing for these men?" remarked the Fox, not casting even one glance in his direction, fully occupied with the papers on the desk. "Even if you worked with them, I think that Camero would very much prefer to see his friend Gonzales at the command of the _cuartel_. Better wait, your chances are bigger with me."

"You already know their names?" retorted ironically Monastario, not willing to comment on the last sentence.

"I know a lot of things," noticed obliviously Zorro, looking through the drawers, "but… but I have no idea what this might be…" he whispered surprised, tipping out the pile of eagle's feathers from some leather folder.

Seeing it, Monastario couldn't hold the astonished gasp. So many of them? What could it mean? Was Camero the head of this strange conspiracy?

"Do they look familiar for you, _Capitán_?... So you have an advantage over me," muttered the Fox, ordering the feathers into three piles. "They are different… They have different markings. It might be important. Do you know what these cuts mean?"

"No, I don't," Monastario shook his head. Then, however, he saw that Zorro as if unaware of the danger they were in, is calmly contemplating the feathers; obviously not intending to leave the place before he gets some clue to solve the riddle. The _commandante_ added also impatiently, pointing at the familiar pattern of markings: "I got… I saw… The previous… visitors presented me such one. That's all I know."

"Ha, interesting. They gave you such and you are still alive. That's already something," commented quietly the Fox and reached for the clean piece of paper and pencil. For a moment he started to take off his glove, but then he hesitated, shot a quick glance at the _commandante_ and pulled it back.

_So cautious… I would give a half of my life to catch him on the mistake…_ crossed through Monastario's mind.

Anyway, his impatience was growing. They could be discovered in any minute, Camero or his servant might return, or someone from the yard could enter… There was no time to linger – and this stupid bandit was calmly redrawing the patterns of the feathers so precisely – and slowly as the leather glove disturbed him a bit. Yet, Monastario couldn't leave Zorro here and try to get out alone. The _commandante_ had to admit that alone his chances were much lower… and what's worse, if he got caught, the Fox would certainly use the commotion to sneak calmly out.

No matter how troubling he found this strange alliance, he had to wait with breaking it until he will be safe.

"Listen, I have such feather in my office, I will show it to you later, just let's get out now," he whispered irritated, before he realized what exactly he said.

"Thank you, _Capitán_, but I am afraid you might forget about it once we are outside," replied the bandit continuing his work.

Monastario rolled his eyes, but he could do nothing but wait till the Fox finishes his drawing, hides it behind his sash and then orders cautiously Camero's desk, so that everything lay just as before. Only then did the bandit near to the exit doors, setting it a little ajar – and closing immediately back.

"Guards. Let's try again the yard," he whispered, moving toward the window.

The yard was empty now. The small fire in the stables flickered behind the vehicles, but the men around it didn't talk, probably drowsing. For one small second both the Fox and the _commandante_ stared longingly at the covered cart, but it stood too near to the fire. Checking its cargo would be too risky now.

Then the Fox moved smoothly toward the side gate, yet he got rooted to the spot when the voices of other guards walking in front of it sounded in the air. This way was watched too.

_This place is like some damn trap, _thought Monastario in despair. Perhaps the Fox would somehow manage to sneak by the guards. In this rainy night, in his black attire, when he covered the lower part of his face, one could hardly tell him apart from the shadows. But the _commandante_… Monastario felt suddenly painfully aware of his white trousers, his white belt with shining buckle, his metal buttons and dozens of fair, glittering details on his uniform, most of them serving only to decoration – and of course everything was very clean and shiny. The _commandante_ liked to keep his uniforms in the best order.

"Like a chandelier," muttered bitingly the Fox, piercing him with scrutinizing glance. "You only lack some crystal pendants."

Before the _commandante_ managed to get offended, the bandit moved toward the end of the house.

"We will get to the other side over the roof," he whispered. "This way," he pointed at the wall.

_Which way?_ Monastario thought desperately looking in disbelief as the black figure deftly climbed up the almost plain wall to the distant roof. _He should have called himself not the fox, but the squirrel! _

_Well, if he could do it, I can too. _The _commandante_ clenched his teeth and started to climb.

These were some of the worst moments in his life. He climbed in darkness, not sure whether in one second he won't lose his footing, or the slippery wall won't escape his fingers and he falls down to crash his head on the yard… or whether one of the men in the stables won't hear him and look in his direction, and then simply shoot him down… He didn't dare to breath louder, though his tired lungs begged for air… And his fingers numbed from the contact with cold wet wall, his arms and legs ached from tension… And besides, he feared that the Fox, being safely on top, will simply disappear somewhere in the darkness, leaving him like the last idiot on this roof, the _commandante_ could probably climb up, but he certainly wouldn't be able to climb down…

But the Fox didn't disappear. When the _commandante_, panting heavily, finally dragged himself onto the top of the roof, clanging to it like the shipwrecked to the land, the bandit didn't reach to help him, but he stood there and waited, leaning on the chimney with folded hand, almost steaming with impatience.

"You make the noise like the drunken bear,"he hissed angrily.

"I am an honest man, used to the gates, not to the bandits' tracks," Monastario gasped in retort, struggling to stand up on his wobbly legs. As if for mockery, right in this moment his feet slipped on the wet tile and he would have fallen down, if Zorro didn't grab his collar.

"Well, bad for you then," he noticed obliviously, shoveling him toward the chimney.

Monastario grabbed its brick wall greedily, for a moment so relieved that he almost didn't feel humiliated. All right, the _commandante_ never liked climbing. It is not that he was a coward, or clumsy, no. He just didn't like being high – only in the literal sense of course. He didn't like being high and looking down, and the fact that right now when he looked down he saw nothing but darkness didn't help at all. On the contrary, it made the situation much worse.

The Fox started to walk calmly along the roof and Monastario though in despair that, no matter what, he is simply unable to follow him on this wet, slippery roof – when suddenly they heard a loud voice from the room just beneath them. Camero's voice.

Zorro rolled himself down the roof so quickly that for a moment the _commandante_ thought he is falling – but the bandit only clung to the edge of the roof, tilting his head down to hear it more precisely. Monastario noticed that now he could easily push him down, but he was too tired for it. Besides, it would require making a few steps down on these damn wet tiles…

"I can see no other way," said loudly Camero. "The only place where our carts would arouse no suspicions is this smithy. Send two men there now, let them cut the throat of the blacksmith. Tomorrow I will announce an investigation on this crime and Gonzales will take control over the building. Then we will transport there the cargo."

"It won't look good," replied someone. "One day the lancer, the second day the blacksmith? Someone might notice that the mortality rate in the pueblo grew rapidly after our arrival."

"So what? I don't care. We already tried diplomatic approach and it has been one failure after another. Go."

Someone down there slammed the door and the Fox swiftly climbed back to the top of the roof. Seeing him, Monastario tried to look as if he was casually leaning over the chimney, not clanging to it desperately.

"You heard?" whispered the bandit. "They are going to kill him. Hurry!" He ran few steps along the roof, and, hearing that the _commandante_ is not following him, he turned back with irritation: "_Capitán_, if you need someone to lead you go through it holding your hand, I have no time for it."

The anger somehow helped Monastario to go through this roof, then slip down to the lower buildings and get to the other side of the yard. Zorro was obviously in a hurry, he didn't look back anymore, only after they reached the stables, dived into the darkness of the street below them. The _commandante_ saw no way to climb down, he just grabbed the edge of the roof, swayed for a moment and finally jumped, landing heavily on the ground… just under the impressive teeth of the black stallion, who snorted over Monastario with evidently hostile intentions.

Zorro was already in the saddle.

"The blacksmith," he reminded.

"I will get the lancers," muttered Monastario, crumbling away from the black horse before he dared to stand up.

"There is no time, they left a while ago!" hissed Zorro rearing his horse and disappeared in the darkness.

The _commandante_ for a moment stood not sure what to do. He certainly had tonight enough of hiding, sneaking and climbing, he wanted to have his power and his men by his side… But he realized that if he goes now to the _cuartel_ for the lancers, when they will reach the smithy it will be too late to find even the trace of Camero's men or the Fox…

Hurling silent curses under his nose, Monastario ran alone toward the smithy.

Already at the distance of the tens of yards he heard the noises of the fight, wooden equipment and metal tools tossing aside with loud clatter. For a moment he bridled at the incompetence of his lancers. What was the use of their night patrols, if they didn't notice such clamorous fight?

The _commandante_ expected to find a few men in the smithy, Zorro and blacksmith defending against Camero's ruffians – but there was only the Fox fighting with one opponent, the second lied knocked down on the floor.

The man struggling with the Fox was not only tall and heavy built, but also quick and agile and it seemed that he is giving hard time to the masked man. He kept a long knife in his hand, whereas Zorro's sword was gone somewhere and he had only some piece of wood, with which he parried the attack. Yet, the ruffian must have suffered a few well-aimed punches, judging from the bruise on his jaw and tear on his sleeve, whereas the Fox appeared to remain unharmed so far.

When your two enemies are fighting each other, there is always a dilemma whom to attack first. Monastario hesitated, considering the situation. In the meantime, the second ruffian, lying just near his feet, started to regain consciousness, stirring on the floor, struggling to rise on his knees. Monastario absently took the first thing that was under his hand – a clay pot – and crushed it over his head. The man fell down, limp and motionless again, and the _commandante_ tried to concentrate.

_At first I must get rid of the Fox, _he decided. Though Camero's man appeared to be a strong opponent, somehow Monastario was sure that he will manage to deal with any thug. Whereas Zorro… the _commandante_ had a feeling that if he left alone with _el Zorro_, the masked bandit would just slip through his finger, as usual.

Monastario took some piece of broken stool, intending to knock his enemy down, but when he looked for the best moment to near to the fighting men, Camero's mercenary managed to pin the Fox to the wall and deal a blow with his knife. The masked man dodged aside, but only in the last second and the blade missed his throat by no more than a hair's breadth.

_Oh no, no one will kill my bandit so senselessly! _bridled Monastario, charging now straightly at Camero's mercenary.

He was just a step from two struggling man, when the Fox with the sharp movement managed to free himself from the attacker's grasp, catch his writs and twist it… and the ruffian fell with loud clatter on the floor under his feet, with his own knife in his heart.

"Thank you for the help with the second one," said the Fox, catching quick breath and rubbing his arm. "The blacksmith and his family were not at home tonight," he pointed at the doors leading to the housing part of the smithy, "but I didn't know about it. There was no other choice, even if it was not wise to show these men someone's following their steps."

Monastario didn't listen to him, staring at Camero's man in front of him. He examined his wound and checked his pulse.

"He is dead," he said with disbelief.

"Not that I had much choice, the man was a professional killer. But there is still the second one to interrogate," remarked the Fox, retrieving his blade from some corner.

That was not the point. Monastario was confused by something entirely different.

"I thought you do not kill," he said in the same tone as before. Damn, he did a lot of things basing at this assumption!

The Fox stopped and for a small second just looked at the _commandante. _If he wasn't wearing the mask, probably Monastario could see his eyebrows rising.

"You were wrong," he replied simply after a while.

Monastario felt suddenly very, very unsure. For a long time, since the moment when Zorro spared him and Sepulveda locking them in the cells, he had an impression that he is playing with his opponent a game – such kind of game in which only the _commandante_ has the power to finish it in an ultimate way, whereas the Fox was no more than some impudent joker. He couldn't deny that the Fox had many occasions to deal him a fatal stroke. Now he realized that the bandit didn't do it just because… because according to his judgment, the _commandante_ didn't cross some line that would justify it according to his code of conduct... If he did, he would already be dead as this man on the floor of the smithy…

Monastario felt the sudden sting of fear, as he had no idea where this line laid.

"Now listen, you have one prisoner," Zorro interrupted his musing, pointing at the unconscious bandit, "but Camero will certainly renounce his actions and you have nothing to prove his involvement. No one's going to believe you. That's why…"

"Go inside, Corporal, and check what caused those noises! I am sure I heard some men here!" in the night outside sounded the loud voice of Sergeant Garcia.

"Are you sure that you heard some _men_ here, Sergeant?" asked hesitantly Reyes.

"Of course, stupid, and who else could it be? A ghost?" laughed Garcia, but his laugher quickly faded and he repeated rather pitifully: "A ghost?..."

Monastario rolled his eyes, but the Fox only smirked:

"I don't think you would like to talk with me in the presence of your men… I will visit you later to discuss it. Just remember, I can help you with Camero, but my help has its price. If you want me on your side, don't pursue anyone at the pueblo, including the council and its members," whispered the bandit and disappeared from the smithy before the _commandante_ managed to respond anything or decide how to stop him.

Then Monastario heard only the rattle of horse's hooves and the merry shout of the bandit:

"Sergeant Garcia, over here! The ghost is leaving, you may enter now!"

* * *

Pina found the state of self-pitying quite appealing and he intended to spend the next day doing nothing but soothing his despaired soul and a little aching head. Even when the housekeeper brought him the gossips about some extraordinary brawl that took place in the smithy last night, he didn't want to listen, hoping only that the commotion will make everyone at the pueblo forget about his humble person.

Unfortunately he was mistaken. About noon he got a visit of one of Camero's servants, who in respectful, but decided tone passed him the _magistrado's_ request to visit him as soon as it will be possible. There was no doubt that 'as soon as possible' means 'immediately', and Pina was forced to leave his hiding.

"I hoped that you would visit me earlier, _Licenciado_," said Camero with slight reproach in his voice. "Have you heard that one of my men was killed, and the other one arrested last night?"

Pina suddenly missed the times when there was no one at the pueblo willing to speak with him.

"I heard that the patrol caught someone in the middle of the night in the smithy," he replied cautiously, "but I don't know any details, I haven't been at the _cuartel_ yet."

"Well, you should have! Don't you understand it yourself?" exclaimed Camero, now the irritation clear in his voice. "The _commandante_ asked me to visit him in his office and explain it. Before I speak with him I must know… what he knows so far. Haven't you heard anything else?"

Pina curled on the chair and observed Camero, searching for anything that would help him to figure out the true nature of this man. The façade of friendly and open businessman that cheated the _licenciado_ last time was false, that was certain, but who he really was? Pina could see only the suave, elegant man… definitely too elegant even as for the high-rank official. The sophisticated cut of clothes, the golden buttons incrusted with mother-of-pearl, the laces by his collar and cuffs probably even more expensive than the jewels on his fingers… Pina among the richest _haciendados_ didn't meet anyone wearing such fortune on himself. Diego de la Vega, who held the undoubted title of the first dandy in the region, would get outshone by the _magistrado_ like the sparrow by the peacock…

_Greed and ambition, _classified Pina, wondering why he didn't realize it earlier. _No one coming from really rich family cares to show it so ostensively._

"What else do people say?" urged him Camero.

"I only heard that the bandit _el Zorro_ appeared there too," muttered Pina.

Camero laughed as if he just got the most welcomed present.

"Ah, so the dark angel of Los Angeles got interested in my humble person? Good, I hoped to draw his attention!"

_That's not exactly the thing to be particularly happy about, _thought Pina, but didn't voice it. Instead, he hesitantly directed the conversation into the subject he very much feared to start… but that was inevitable.

"The death of the lancer certainly did draw his attention."

Camero must have understood the unspoken question in Pina's remark as he sat quiet for a while, his features arranging in the expression of regret.

"That was an accident, _Licenciado_, unhappy accident," he said finally very sadly. "I never wished this poor boy dead, I only sent the men with orders for him to return. You know I have the right to give such command, he should have obeyed. I do not know what happened there, I truly do not know!" his voice was soft and compassionate, and there was even a small glitter of tear in his eye.

Pina was always very resilient to tears.

He was scared, but there was only one thing he could do now. There was no other way.

"It wasn't an accident," he croaked. "I am not asking any questions. I just do not want to have anything more to do with you."

"Tsk, tsk, _Licenciado_," Camero shook his head, neither surprised nor abashed. "How can such wise man say something so childish? I put so much trust in you, I spoke to you with all confidence, I taught you our signs – and now you want to leave? Theoretically I should farewell you now, and then call my friends so that they could farewell you too. You understand what I am talking about?" he asked gently.

Pina slowly nodded, feeling like a rabbit in front of the dancing snake.

"But I got to like you, _Licenciado_," sighed Camero. "That is probably a mistake, but a soft heart has always been my weakness. So, I will take a risk," he smiled with energy. "Let's try again. Let's forget what you said. Do not allow this misfortunate accident put the shadow on our friendship."

"Accidents happen," whispered Pina after a long while of silence.

Seeing how Camero's friendly smile changes into the triumphal and knowing one, he almost shivered with disgust to himself, but… there was no other way.

* * *

When the lancer announced _Magistrado_ Camero, and the official entered the _commandante's_ office, Monastario didn't stand up with greeting only pointed him the chair with reluctant glance. Off with the courtesies, this man was a cheater and imposter… and that's how he intended to treat him.

Camero looked around, slowly took the place in front of the Monastario's desk… and smiled shyly.

"I am afraid we started on a very bad footing, _Capitán_," he said apologetically. "It is mostly my fault, I should have talked with you first, explained everything. However, I thought it will be good to convince the council about my impartiality, so that it would be easier to… steer them. Otherwise, I wouldn't manage to get their trust… I didn't think you would feel so endangered," he finished with polite smile, but the gloomy cloud in Monastario's eyes didn't disperse even a bit.

"Did you kill my lancer?" he asked harshly.

"Now, that's a misunderstanding!" exclaimed Camero outraged. "I never meant it to happen, I wanted to stop him, true, but nothing more. Things must have gotten out of control somehow," he shook his head with regret, but seeing that Monastario's expression didn't change a bit, he suddenly waved his hand. The grief flowed from his face giving place to impatience and he stated coldly: "All right then, hang one of my men you have in the cell and we will be even. Just let's finish this subject."

Monastario almost choked. _And at the pueblo they call me devil!,_ he thought in awe.

"Let's get to business," said firmly Camero and without more explanations put on Monastario's desk the eagle's feather. He kept watching the _commandante_ cautiously and lack of any reaction on his side seemed to confuse him a bit. "You are not surprised… So, why did you send this man to Monterey? If you suspected who sent me… I thought we had an agreement with you."

"You were wrong," replied Monastario. He just couldn't resist using Zorro's words. Damn, it really sounded good – and Camero appeared to get confused even more.

"I believe you… misunderstood our intentions, _Capitán_. Were you afraid of your position?" he asked with hesitation and Monastario almost saw how his thoughts rush in the attempt to understand the situation. "I assure you that it is not the reason of my arrival."

"So what is it, Senor?" asked Monastario coldly. "What is the reason for coming here with the false mandate?"

"To strengthen our businesses in Los Angeles," Camero shrugged his shoulders as if his quest was the most natural and most innocent. "We have certain matters here that required the presence of someone with power and respect. That's why I came here as the governor's emissary. Besides, I had to bring with me numerous company… I need my men to deal with a certain problem… a problem we apparently share, _Capitán_. _El Zorro_."

"Zorro?" Monastario repeated numbly, taken totally by surprise.

"Yes, your famous black bandit. He has been a thorn in your side as well, hasn't he?"

"I will deal with him myself," muttered reluctantly the _commandante_.

Anna… She said something about letting the suitable people know about the Fox. Who could say that the threats of a crying woman will turn into the presence of a dozen armed men?…

"You had no luck so far, _Capitán_," retorted ironically Camero. "But this masked rider messed with someone he shouldn't. With us. He cost us too much… and he will pay for it. That's why I need the trust of the pueblo."

"You make no sense, you won't keep the popularity among the people when you start to chase Zorro," gnarled Monastario, irritated with the reference to his previous failures.

Camero laughed, his eyes sparkling with malicious mirth.

"You are so simple-minded, _Capitán_! I can discredit this bandit and make the whole pueblo chase him with me… You failed to see that the mask he wears is perhaps his hiding, but also his trap."

"What do you mean?" asked cautiously Monastario, very reluctant at the idea that someone else might have found the better way to deal with the Fox. He didn't like it. Zorro was his enemy, he didn't want anyone else to… steal his revenge.

Camero must have sensed some of the _commandante's_ feelings as he only replied evasively:

"I heard he had a clash with my men last night? Good, I hoped he would show himself soon. Let him come and nose around. Each time he appears, I will turn it against him."

_That's why he left the lancer's body to be found… to get Zorro's interest, not mine… _thought Monastario with the sting of humiliation. Was he so… unimportant for this man? Well, if Camero thought that the _commandante_ will be no more than an obedient puppet… he will soon learn that he made a big mistake disregarding him in his plans…

"If you keep losing your mercenaries each time he appears, soon you will have no one to hunt him with," remarked ironically Monastario, but Camero only smiled again.

"I don't enjoy the death of the skilled helper… but after all, your Fox is a murderer now, isn't he? The unpredictable bandit killed the poor servant sent with some urgent errands at night… Who can feel safe now?" he sighed with ironic concern.

"I never said it was Zorro who killed your man," mumbled the _commandante_, regretting that he didn't come on the idea of using the last night's incident in such way himself.

"But you will," stated obliviously Camero, and Monastario understood that he doesn't care at all who was really guilty of his servant's death. "You will say to everyone that your patrol came across the tussle between Zorro and my servants, and one of them got killed by his hand. No more details are necessary, a bit of mystery is good for creating confusion."

_What makes him think he can give me orders? _thought Monastario more surprised than angry. _He is treating me like some meek idiot obeying each command without question… _Suddenly the _commandante_ almost blushed, recalling his dealings with the previous… agent. _Just because I was polite to the woman doesn't mean that this rascal can push me around! _he bridled.

Camero, unaware that he does not dispose of the certain attributes that make Monastario more cooperative, continued in the most commanding tone.

"Besides, Senor _Commandante_, you will do no more rush foolishness like sending someone anywhere. You will, officially, remain wary and keep a reluctant attitude toward me. I do not want to lose the trust of the _cabildo_. Still, you will discreetly consult with me all your important decisions. And if you are not sure whether the matter is important enough – at best come to me anyway."

Monastario sat for a moment calmly, waiting for the rush of blood in his ears to quiet.

"And you, Senor _Magistrado_," he said finally very, very politely, "you will exit this room and go to hell. And if you do not know the way, I will gladly show you. Or perhaps I will better show you the way straight to the cell."

Camero stared at him for a moment with wide opened eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether he didn't mishear something, his well-cared face slowly distorting with the grimace of anger.

"Mistake, _Capitán_!" he hissed finally. "Do you think it will be so easy?"

It was strange to hear the threat from such a tiny, elegant man who didn't even bother to carry any weapon… and whose hands looked as if he never handled one. Still, he was declaring war right now, there could be no doubts about it… Monastario saw it in his eyes. Perhaps this man was not a warrior… but he was all poison.

The _commandante_ realized he was very, very right last night, hiding so cautiously from Camero's men.

"You are a cheater and a murderer," said heavily Monastario. His hand unwittingly clenched over the seal lying on his desk and he felt a strange comfort from the touch of this small wooden object, the symbol of his power and office.

"And who is going to believe you?" Camero laughed in his face. "Please, arrest me. That's what everyone here expects you to do, to fight me in a desperate attempt to escape the consequences of your offences. Arrest me. It is still early, by sundown you will have a rebellion at the pueblo."

He backed his elbows over Monastario's desk and leant toward the _commandante_ whispering with a smile of a puckish boy:

"I can turn the people against the Fox, and I can turn them against you… It will be even easier… You have a grounded reputation here, _mi Capitán_. People will gladly follow anyone speaking against you."

Monastario almost cursed at the irony of the situation. All these noble fools from the council, so eager to protect the law, so anxious about the possible conspiracy around Los Angeles… will now, acting in their best intentions, follow the criminal… and fight the _commandante_.

How twisted the fate may be! During the conflict between him and the council, Monastario had struggled so hard, had refrain himself so much, to have at least the pretense of law on his side… and now, when the law and the truth were fully with him… it didn't really matter.

No, wait. Actually, it mattered a lot.

Monastario quickly lowered his eyes so that Camero didn't see the sudden glitter of excitement on his face. He ran his fingers over his stamp, caressing the pattern of Spanish coats of arms engraved on it.

In the meantime, Camero continued with the smile that was not friendly or shy now, only purely cruel:

"Better think twice, whose side you are on, _Capitán_. Think it over. Because if I call you a traitor, everyone here will fight you like a traitor. If you hope to get help from the governor… even if you manage to notify him, I assure you, you will be dead long before it arrives. Would you like to see your own soldiers to build the gallows for you?"

Monastario didn't think about the governor even once. What for? To send here some colonel who would take command in his hands? No, no. The threat suddenly turned into the chance and he had to catch it.

_It is about all what I wanted. Power._

_I need time. I must play along for a while, _he thought. _It's worth it. Now the stake is higher than getting rid of this rascal. _He almost bridled at the thought of giving up to Camero, even if only for a moment, but he forced himself to the reluctant smile.

"Now you are too haste, _Magistrado_," he said doing his best to appear unsure. "I do not want the bloodshed in the pueblo. Give me a few days to think it over."

Camero leant back on his chair, smiling widely and nodding with satisfaction.

"Of course. I already see that we will have an agreement," he said like the man used to his threats always having the desired effect.

_Yes, we will. I will hang you just in the middle of the plaza. That's agreed, _thought Monastario standing up to escort Camero to the door.

* * *

When Camero left, Monastario for a long while sat behind his desk, trying not to get carried away by the enthusiasm. He couldn't act to hastily... Such opportunity won't happen again.

He had to calculate everything.

Whoever helps the criminal becomes a criminal himself, as will the dons, if they support Camero, opposing the legitimate power of the _commandante_… Oh, certainly, Monastario will officially warn them, so that there would be no doubts. But Camero was right, who is going to believe him? The _commandante_ almost laughed, imagining the face of Alejandro de la Vega, when he will tell him that the _magistrado_ is the cheater who should be placed under arrest…

True, if there were a trial, some judge might acquit the members of the rebellious council, claiming that they were cheated… But who would bother with an open trial in such turbulent moment, with the hostile plot and the revolt in the region? Monastario will carry his own justice, and when he finished, his power here will finally be… unlimited.

The only problem was to defeat Camero and everyone supporting him. Right now, Monastario was too outnumbered… but this could be helped.

The _commandante_ thought, calculated and… started to write a letter.

When he finished, he called for Sepulveda.

"I am going to send you with an assignment," he said to the lancer. "You will leave at night and speak with no one about it. You know what happened to Felipe, if you do not want to finish as he did, you must act with the upmost caution and secrecy."

With satisfaction he noticed no fear on the soldier's face, only concentration.

"Am I going to Monterey?" he asked.

"No. To San Diego," replied Monastario, handing him the letter. "You will give it to _Capitán_ Zambrano. He will certainly try to learn from you some details, so just repeat to him I want him to send me his men, immediately and as many as he can. He had better strip his garrison empty, because if I fail, he will be himself in far bigger trouble than he can handle."

Zambrano's integrity was certain; this old crock was too lazy and too stupid to take part in any treacherous conspiracy. Besides, he would surely do anything Monastario asks him to. In spite of having much longer seniority in service, he always seemed to fear the ambitious young officer a little.

"Just make sure he will give the men proper weapons and a vast stock of ammunition. I know he likes to make savings… You will return with reinforcements, but you cannot enter the pueblo. No one here, or in the _haciendas_, can learn about their presence, do you understand? I will hold you personally responsible for it," stressed the _commandante_, and Sepulveda swallowed hard, nodding. Now he did seem scared.

"Make the camp… behind the Mission San Gabriel, but be careful that the friars or these Indians won't see you," added Monastario with a grimace that recently always appeared on his face when he spoke about the natives.

"I will do my best, _Capitán_," assured him Sepulveda.

"I don't want you do your best, I want you do what I tell you," gnarled Monastario. "Now, you are dismissed."

The lancer only saluted and left the office, not daring to speak another word.

Monastario sat more comfortably and the dreamy smile appeared on his face. To finally get rid of all these haughty loudmouths! No, he will not hang them all; that would be an exaggeration of course… But how nice it will be to decide which one of them will be spared and which one not! To have their fate in his, only his hands!

Fleetingly he thought about Zorro. If Zorro learns Monastario's intentions, he certainly won't like them. He was rather protective about the council's members, making their safety the condition of his cooperation… Well, the _commandante_ didn't need his help anymore… no mistake: he didn't need it at all; he never needed it, nor intended to use it. What a shameful idea!

It wasn't good that the bandit knew the truth about Camero, he will try to warn the others about him… Yet, if Camero will succeed with discrediting his name – and the emissary appeared to be skilled in such intrigues – no one will believe the Fox either…

Monastario's smile grew wider. Oh, yes, the Fox was a worthy opponent, now, being so close to victory, the _commandante_ could admit it. He was brave and wise, skilled with blade, clever and sly as the real fox… True, true. A hero. But still – a lonely hero. The conflict that was building up at the pueblo will involve the small army: the _cuartel's_ crew, the reinforcements from San Diego, Camero's mercenaries and, last but not least, the _haciendados_ with their men... What could the lonely rider do against all of them?

Who knows, perhaps with a bit of luck, when this storm ends, the _commandante_ will have also the black Fox in his cell?

Monastario sighed with satisfaction and looked at the clock. It was the high time for siesta. After a long and tiring night, he could rest a little.

Something told him that now he will sleep calm and sound.

* * *

_This chapter goes with special thanks for IcyWaters for borrowing Capitán Zambrano - the character much more respectable than Monastario thinks him to be :) Let it be a small announcement of her new, great story!_


	12. The hard way 1

**The hard way**

There is no better way to relieve the troubled mind than a bit of effort for your muscles.

Monastario grinned with satisfaction, exhilarated and relaxed, though he was engaged in the most relentless exchange of quick strikes, as he and his opponent circled on the _cuartel's_ yard trying to find an opening in each other's defense. He felt as if the blade was a part of his body. When he deftly executed the finest thrusts and parries he ever practiced, his feet moved almost automatically, keeping him always in balance and he found it childishly easy to foresee and block each maneuver of the young man in front of him.

Generally, the _commandante_ felt simply great and fully relished the joy of doing something he was very good at.

No, none of the soldiers would be able to provide him such entertainment… They were strong and practiced, but they lacked the finesse that only the training since the earliest youth can give. His opponent was Don Juan Peralta, who eagerly accepted Monastario's invitation for a fencing match. The young man was considerably talented and must have had good teachers, what gave him in the neighborhood a reputation of an exquisite swordsmaster – but right now he didn't seem to enjoy the fight at all, gasping heavily as he struggled to block the _commandante's_ blade.

Monastario knew very well that Peralta agreed for the exercise only because he hoped to defeat the officer with an easy victory, meant as an additional humiliation before his official dismissal everyone in the pueblo expected... Though, it was not to happen.

"Good fight requires an appropriate _finale_," stated casually Monastario, just to show his opponent that he didn't even manage to tire him – and with one quick twist of blade sent Juan's rapier flying high in the air.

_Even the Fox wouldn't have done it better, _he thought with satisfaction, as lancers watching the match started to cheer and Juan Peralta clenched angrily his fists.

"You are a good fencer, _Capitán_," he muttered bitingly. "Just why didn't you command your garrison as well as your sword?"

Monastario ignored him, cleaning his blade. He invited Peralta for a fencing match, not for a conversation. Once they were done, he didn't care for him a bit. If he would like to quarrel, he could find better opponents than this dull muscleman.

"I wonder how this Fox managed to beat you. The man must be a devil with sword," sighed Juan a bit longingly, retrieving his weapon. "Pity that he is dead."

"You think so?" asked obliviously Monastario.

"Certainly. That's what many people think. _El Zorro_ must be dead and some rascal must be riding in similar attire. The real Fox would never attack the _magistrado's_ men."

"Oh, he wouldn't?" muttered Monastario with irony, but didn't elaborate on his comment.

Camero, just as he planned, skillfully spread unsettling gossips. It was now a common belief that there might be something wrong with _el Zorro. _Some of the rich landowners stated that the bandit simply opposes each legitimate power, bringing in chaos and destruction; the others, who used to admire and support the mysterious outlaw, feared that their hero is really dead and someone uses his disguise and name for his own purposes.

All in all, people's trust in the masked rider was strongly disturbed.

Monastario observed it half-irritated and half-amused. No, he didn't like Camero messing into what the _commandante_ thought to be his – and his only – game with the black clad bandit. Watching how the _magistrado_ was trying to build a plot against the Fox, Monastario felt almost jealous, like the boy seeing someone intruding into his favorite playground.

On the other hand, it was funny indeed to see how all these pompous roosters from the council were so easily cheated by the clever rascal. The _magistrado_ and the council were now spending a lot of time in the archives, going through the documents, reports, accounts... Monastario knew that the dons were trying to prove how he misused his power, both commanding the men and administering the pueblo – but he didn't care, knowing that Camero is only putting on a show in front of the landowners… Having assigned Sergeant Garcia to represent him in the investigation, he didn't bother himself more with it.

People at the pueblo were strongly surprised with Monastario's obliviousness. Some of them commented that he already gave up, seeing no way to cover his offences; the others – that he is plotting something extraordinarily devious.

Of course the second ones were right.

Monastario smiled indulgently at the very same thought he could have given up. Give up without a fight! He could play on time for a while. That's all. Never give up.

Yet, playing on time was extremely irritating. It wasn't in his nature just to sit and wait, and watch how his enemy was bossing around at the pueblo...

_How much time should it take before the reinforcements from San Diego appear? _Monastario counted days once again. Usually, the rider needed about four days to cover the distance between Los Angeles and San Diego. Sepulveda knew the matter is urgent, he could try to get there faster… But how long will it take for _Capitán_ Zambrano to prepare the men? How quickly will they travel back?

Ouch, during the last week Monastario regretted hundreds of times that he has chosen such… cautious way, that he didn't find some trick that would allow him to strike at Camero without this infuriating delay…

_Patience, _he reminded himself once again. _A bit of patience and my victory will be complete. I will get rid not only of Camero, but of my all enemies at once._

Deep in his thoughts, he slowly walked toward the tavern to enjoy a cold drink, well-deserved after the fencing exercise. Only at the tavern's door did he notice that Juan Peralta had the same idea. They almost clashed at the entrance and measured themselves with reluctant glances. Yet, as neither of them wanted to retreat before the other, they both went into the building.

The sala was surprisingly empty. None of the usual patrons were occupying the tables, even the inn-keeper and maids disappeared somewhere, there was only the young de la Vega, leant under the opened lid of the piano…. The piano? Ah, yes, Monastario recalled quickly that the inn-keeper had just bought the old piano somewhere, and de la Vega offered to tune it a little.

So, no wonder the tavern was so abandoned. The _commandante_ grimaced at the cacophony of grating sounds that vibrated in the air. He would gladly leave the room as soon as possible, but he didn't want to give the impression of withdrawing because of Peralta's presence.

Peralta must have thought the same, as after the moment of hesitation he crossed the room and took a table in the opposite part of the sala than Monastario. The inn-keeper appeared after a while, served them the wine in utmost haste and disappeared quickly, leaving them to doubtful pleasure of witnessing de la Vega's work.

For a few minutes the _commandante_ sat stiffly, fighting with unpleasant shivers each time when the old strings moaned in protest of being pulled or loosened, or the chord struck extremely false. Finally, his head started to pulse with pain. He gave up and gulped quickly his wine ready to get away, when Peralta, obviously coming through similar torment, asked angrily:

"Have you got nothing else to do, Diego? You should better help the _alcalde_ and the council with their reports, we would be sooner done with this nuisance." With a slight movement of the head toward Monastario, Juan indicated what he meant by the 'nuisance' and what end of Camero's investigation he was certain of. The _commandante_ smiled scornfully, but before he managed to retort, de la Vega replied calmly, barely raising his head from the instrument:

"I don't think so."

"You have such low opinion about your talents even when it comes to pen and paper?" mocked Peralta, apparently searching for someone to wreck his frustration after the failure in the match with the _commandante_.

"No," answered de la Vega, again diving under the lid of the piano. "I just do not think that anything would make the _magistrado_ proceed quicker. The man does nothing but commotion," he finished angrily and Monastario was a bit abashed with the uncharacteristic irritation in his voice.

"You are fretful like a lady to be married," snickered Peralta and Monastario awaited some usual biting retort. To his surprise the dandy didn't reply anything; only turned back and started to clean the hammers with a soft rag. Juan, after a few minutes of awkward silence, tossed his mug on the counter with a loud bump and left the sala, seeming to be even more frustrated than in the moment he entered it.

How strange. It passed through Monastario's mind that de la Vega ignored Juan in the same dismissive way the _commandante_ did on the _cuartel's_ yard.

Monastario knew that de la Vega indeed had nothing better to do than tamper with the piano. He heard from Pina and Garcia that the young man during the council's meetings kept commenting on everything that the _magistrado_ did or said in the way leaving do doubts that he is at least very suspicious of the integrity of Camero's intentions. As the other dons were dancing around the emissary as if he was the Archangel Gabriel sent to their rescue, de la Vega's remarks spoilt the mood in a very unpleasant way and finally his father asked him to leave the meeting and not mess with the investigation anymore.

With all the other dons – and Garcia – occupied with assisting the _magistrado_, de la Vega, left alone with no company, should be bored to death, and at the first glance he indeed looked so. Yet, suddenly Monastario couldn't resist the impression the obliviousness of the young man is as fake as the _commandante's_ peace and passiveness, that deep inside he is equally tensed, irritated and impatient.

_Just as if he really knew what kind of threat Camero poses…_ thought Monastario surprised. No, that was a stupid idea. No one in the pueblo knew the true face of the esteemed _magistrado_, only the _commandante_… And he told no one about it.

Well, there was of course also the Fox, but…

"What about your prisoner, _Capitán_?" suddenly asked de la Vega turning to Monastario. "The _magistrado's_ man arrested the night when the second one was killed in the smithy? Did he explain what happened?"

"He said nothing of importance," replied Monastario evasively, once again confused with the unexpected question.

The prisoner didn't say anything of importance, because the _commandante_ didn't ask him about it. What for? He knew about Camero everything he needed. Yet, he didn't release the man and Camero didn't demand it, thinking probably that keeping one of his men in the cell will soothe Monastario's pride and make him more cooperative.

"One could say you should question him with more engagement. Wouldn't it be convenient for you to find any dark stain on the _magistrado's_ reputation?" de la Vega leant on the back of his chair, smiling friendly toward the _commandante_, yet his eyes remained surprisingly cold and watchful.

"Well, that's an astute remark, Senor!" exclaimed mockingly Monastario. "Would you like to tell me how to do my job? You would certainly make a fine _commandante_, you would just have to read a few suitable books on the subject… and I am afraid that during your studies you didn't encounter many of such… What exactly have you been studying, Senor?" he suddenly asked, for a moment truly interested what it might have been. Philosophy? Literature? Or something else equally tedious and of no use?

De la Vega stood up, leaning again over the strings.

"It does not matter what I have studied," he said obliviously fighting with some curb, "only what I managed to learn." The curb gave up and the string moaned with a loud rasp. "And what I managed to learn is enough to notice that the _magistrado_ is exactly as eager to examine the records of the pueblo as you are to examine the night's fight of his men," he struck some chord and Monastario grimaced painfully hearing how terribly false it sounded.

The _commandante_ stood up, intending to leave the room. This conversation had no sense and the last thing he intended to do was to excuse his decisions to the nosey dandy.

And just in this moment Sepulveda entered the sala.

Monastario couldn't refrain himself from the loud gasp, for a second overjoyed, then frozen with a wave of fear when he thought that something must have gone wrong, if the lancer returned so soon.

But Sepulveda, seeing his anxiety, reported quickly, with satisfied glitter in his eyes:

"Everything's fine, _Capitán_. Just as you ordered. I can give you the full report in the _cuartel,_" he suggested, pointing discreetly toward de la Vega.

The young man noticed this gesture and stood up, seeming to be a little offended.

"Please, talk here freely," he bridled. "I have to bring a few new strings anyway. I do not know how much the inn-keeper paid for this box, but it was certainly the worst business he ever made."

He left and Monastario looked quickly around, deciding they can safely talk in the empty sala.

"So soon?" he asked hectically.

"We took loose horses and hardly rested on the way back… _Capitán_ Zambrano was the most helpful. He sent dozen well-armed men with _Sergeant_ Dominguez," reported Sepulveda.

Monastario grimaced, for a moment his joy fading a little. He knew _Sergeant_ Dominguez, this impudent, ambitious young brat… For a few weeks they served together in Monterey, and there came to a certain… misunderstanding between them.

Well, right now he was ready to work with a devil, if he had to.

"Where did they stay? Behind the mission?" he asked, adding anxiously: "Are you certain that no one has seen you?"

"Absolutely," nodded Sepulveda. "They found perfect, well-hidden caves. Not very comfortable, but definitely safe."

"Good," Monastario smiled dreamily.

"There is only the problem with provisions," Sepulveda's voice woke him up from the sweet visions of the battle and victory, now so close to his hands. "They didn't take much from San Diego to travel quicker. If they are to wait longer than a day or two, we will have to send them something."

"Provisions?" exclaimed loudly Monastario, unpleasantly abashed. "It will be difficult enough to send there a man with orders without someone noticing him! A loaded cart? Impossible! And it is not necessary. The matter will be done in two days. There will be no need to risk…"

Suddenly the wind outside blew stronger, the flurry of air ran through the sala and the entrance doors crackled loudly. Monastario turned abruptly in this direction. Shouldn't they be closed?

"I have only forgotten my gloves," muttered de la Vega, taking his gauntlets from the piano, "I am sorry to disturb you."

Monastario let the breath out of his lungs, relieved but also angry at himself for his recklessness. Thanks God it was only this dandy, but if someone overheard their conversation…

"Let's go to the _cuartel_," he waved for Sepulveda and exited the tavern.

* * *

Pina was reading the report on the garrison's finances prepared by the _alcalde_, admiring the clarity and precision of this document. It was a piece of good work and clearly proved that Monastario's integrity in this matter was more than questionable. The emissary could easily suspend him from his office, basing just on it…

But Camero only pretended to thoroughly go through the report. In the moment he and Pina were left alone in the office, he impatiently pushed the pile of papers aside.

"Why do you think, _Licenciado_, that this masked bandit, this Zorro, doesn't show himself anymore? I expected him to be more interested in my presence," he asked.

"Everyone here believes you to be an honest man," replied Pina seriously, masking well the irony, "an honest man and governor's official. Perhaps, in spite of this incident in the smithy, he thinks that way too, expecting that you will bring justice to the pueblo."

"If he were so stupid, we wouldn't have so many problems with him," bridled Camero. "Time's running out and I have achieved nothing. How shall I make him appear again?"

"You should provoke him," stated Pina, lowering his eyes, hoping to sound sincere. "Throw him a challenge, hurt or threaten someone…"

"How can you say something so stupid!" Camero didn't catch the hook, but he also didn't seem suspicious at the _licenciado's_ advice. "People's faith is a feeble treasure, if I do one false step, they might stop trusting me. No, my reputation must remain spotless. But," he raised his head with sudden consideration, "your _commandante_ could do something like this, to lure the bandit out of his hiding for me… Yes, the _commandante_… Tell me, _Licenciado_, why does he behave so strangely? I thought he will either fight me or help me… I heard that he is not the man to behave so passively."

"He is just offended because you tried to give him orders," replied Pina dismissively.

"So, he is not plotting anything?" Camero lowered his voice, shooting questioning glance toward the _licenciado_. "That's what some of the dons think. They warned me of him."

"Some of the dons think that Monastario is a devil straight from hell and eats sulfur for breakfast," Pina shrugged his shoulders. "No, I haven't heard that he would be plotting something."

True, he didn't hear that Monastario was preparing some unexpected counteroffensive. Still, he was certain that it is exactly what he does.

But why should he tell Camero about it?

The _magistrado_ thought that Pina's initial fears were strangled by his greediness and that he bought his loyalty with the gold he generously paid him. He was mistaken. Pina liked gold, but he was wise enough to understand that sometimes you cannot buy your life with it.

Right now, he was loyal to no one but himself. Having found himself trapped with no way to flee from the battle field, the _licenciado_ slowly started to play the game of his own – and having nothing to lose, he played bolder that usual. The first rule was to listen a lot and speak little. Just in case.

"I am worried with the delay too," he said with well-measured concern. "You cannot block the roads, sooner or later some of the dons will travel to Monterey and news about the mysterious emissary will reach governor's ears. And then…"

"And then he will certainly send here someone to order the matters," finished Camero with a surprisingly triumphant smile. "Don't worry, _Licenciado_, one or two more weeks of secrecy is all I need. Then someone indeed will come to make order here."

Seeing his face, Pina felt a cold shiver crawling up his spine. Exactly how far, how deep did this conspiracy reach? Who else was to come to the pueblo?

Suddenly Camero's face darkened a little and he bit his lips muttering with concern:

"Only before that moment I would like to have this bandit caught and killed and the whole pueblo under my control…" he tapped his fingers on the table, shifted uncomfortably and confessed with a sigh: "I would very much like to… prove useful, _Licenciado_."

Surprised, Pina realized that there was someone filling this sly, cruel man with the utmost fear.

The cold shiver turned into a steady, freezing grasp on his neck.

* * *

The sun was about to hide behind the horizon and the shadows on the streets were long, when Monastario slowly walked through the pueblo. The other passer-byes shot at him curious glances and lowered their voices when he was near. No doubt they were talking about him, gossiping, hoping for his soon dismissal and punishment…

Monastario smiled, definitely not like the man facing the official disgrace. Oh, how soon on the faces of his enemies, in the place of malicious satisfaction, will appear fear and desperation! How soon he will have all these proud, stubborn men at his mercy!

The gallows will be built in the plaza, not at the _cuartel's_ yard, as it was customary. Big occasions require necessary framework.

And once it is finished, he will not only be a very powerful man, but also a very rich one. Monastario narrowed his eyes with delight, envisioning all these rich haciendas to be confiscated. Of course – his smile grimaced a little – the property of the traitors goes to the Crown, but there are also fines… These are never accounted for too precisely.

He walked by Camero's house, throwing passing glance at the gloomy building. Yes, with the force he had now, he could go straight to arrest the _magistrado_, he could even siege this house and defeat Camero's men. But then he would get only the false emissary. So far, the council did nothing wrong. Monastario needed the act of direct treason – and he was going to provoke it.

Pity that he cannot seize the land, he thought, returning to the center of the pueblo. That would be something… The smallest of these ranchos was at least ten times bigger than this miserable stretch of land his father was so proud of… Well, Monastario could probably marry some heiress – if he promised to spare her father from the gallows, each daughter should certainly agree to marry him… The _commandante_ quickly searched his memory for a young, pretty, sole daughter of some rich landowner. The gracious figure of Elena Torres for a moment blurred in his mind, but then he grimaced, moving that thought aside. No, he won't spare Ignatio Torres, no matter what.

Ignatio Torres brought to his thoughts Alejandro de la Vega. What should he do with him? Such men aren't easily sent to gallows, no matter the charges… And his son apparently won't take part in any affair, he will remain free of charges and free to defend his father. Dandy or not, Monastario knew the boy will move the earth and sky to help him.

It was best if Alejandro would simply get killed somehow in the fight that is bound to happen. In all the commotion... _Such things can be arranged,_ Monastario smiled unpleasantly, not noticing how some vaqueros, seeing his face, quickly stepped out of his way.

Yes, everything had to be arranged carefully. He will provoke the council to the open confrontation – and then quickly follow with the arrest, before they manage to rethink their situation. And Dominguez's presence must remain secret till the last moment, so that the dons won't realize how outnumbered they are.

Monastario looked around, in search for a suitable place for his great performance. The tavern? Camero's house? No, organizing the meeting in the building was a bad idea. He will have to speak with the dons alone at first, it might take the soldiers too long to force the doors… The _commandante_ didn't intend to endanger himself excessively. The open space would be better.

_The plaza,_ he stated, stopping by the well and looking around. The gates of the _cuartel_ would remain open, at his first order the lancers would burst out… And Dominguez… Meeting him before the confrontation was too risky. Monastario will just have to send him secret orders to appear at the plaza at the precisely calculated moment, so the San Diego lancers would arrive just after the fight will begin, blocking the _haciendados'_ way of escape… Monastario dreamily looked at the wide road leading toward the Mission, imagining the colorful soldiers' jackets appearing on it, almost hearing the desperate shouts of surprised rebels…

Coming back to reality he noticed one of the tavern girls staring at him with open mouth – apparently the maid thought his blissful smile was directed to her… The _commandante_ snickered angrily, turning back.

As for the road leading out of the second side of the plaza… oh, he will just block it with some carts or barrels. It should be enough. Then only two or three good shooters with muskets at the roof… and Camero's men and the dons will be caught into the trap like rabbits.

Oh, yes, Monastario always considered himself a good strategist… Now he will have the chance to prove his value. He sighed happily, running his sight around, enjoying the picture of the cozy plaza turned into the real, bloody battlefield. He ceased abruptly, seeing that the maid didn't return to the tavern only, swirling the end of her braid, fixed in him a long gaze.

The _commandante_ decisively strode toward the _cuartel_.

Passing through his office, he tossed the blade on the desk, and headed straight to his bedroom, still in the exquisite mood. That was a good day indeed, a bit of celebration to crown it would be on place… He unbuttoned his uniform and sat comfortably in the armchair, pouring himself a glass of wine, just enough for a small the toast.

_To the victory, _he thought triumphantly, raising the glass.

"To the truth, _Capitán_!" sounded laughing, familiar voice just behind him.

Luckily Monastario barely managed to wet his lips in the ruby liquid, as otherwise he would certainly choke with it. He almost dropped the glass, shoveling it violently aside, splitting the wine over the desk, turning abruptly aside to…

"Do not call your lancers," advised him calmly Zorro. "I will be outside," the bandit pointed at the widow, "much sooner than anyone of them will manage to get inside," the laughter in his voice was even clearer. "And I came only to talk with you."

Monastario swirled a bit unconsciously, now searching with his eyes for the pistol he usually kept on the small table near the bed, but it wasn't there.

The Fox shook his head with reproach.

"You still underestimate me, _Capitán_, after all my efforts," he stated with mocking regret, tossing Monastario's pistol in the air.

"One day your foot will slip," muttered gloomily the _commandante_, but remain seated. He took deep breath to regain self-control and get over the nasty surprise. Having more discreetly looked around he stated with irritation that within the reach of his arm there was nothing that could serve as the weapon.

The bandit was sitting in the relaxed pose on the window frame, but Monastario couldn't see much more than the contours of his figure wrapped in the black cape. Now he realized that the room was much darker than it should be at this time of the day – because of the curtains carefully drawn at all windows, except the one the Fox was sitting in. The bandit must have done it, to grant himself the secure dusk.

_I must know him_, realized Monastario._ That's why he is so cautious, he knows I have seen his real face and he is afraid I could recognize him, even in the mask… Oh, damn, I know him, I met him, and still…_

Monastario almost sobbed with frustration. He managed to learn so much about this man, he carefully collected so many details, so many pieces of the puzzle… and still he had not the faintest idea of his identity. Nothing. Simply nothing. Not even the slightest shadow of suspicion. The _commandante_ curled at the wave of hateful feeling of helplessness…

"What do you want?" he gnarled sharply, to cover his despair.

"Camero," replied simply the bandit. "Didn't I tell you that I will help you to expose him?"

To help? Monastario felt a bit uncomfortable. He had prepared a perfect plan and was on the best way to put it into action, but certainly the Fox wouldn't appreciate its details… The _commandante_ quickly searched for the excuse to get rid of the masked man.

"I don't need it. I'd sooner die than use the outlaw's help," he stated proudly.

"After our encounter in Camero's house, it doesn't sound credible," smirked Zorro. "Tell me, _Capitán_, what has changed? What happened?" he asked curiously and continued with mocking, impudent grin: "Have you made a deal with the _magistrado_? Or maybe you got scared of him? And now he is giving you orders? And you are obeying, like the rest of his mercenaries? Like a… puppet?"

"How… how dare you! You have no idea what you are talking about, you fool!" choked Monastario, short of breath with fury. "I am not scared of this jester! I will get him, and make him pay for his impudence, and everyone else who would step against me, his men, and the council, and this whole damn pueblo! I will…" the _commandante_ silenced abruptly, chilled with realization that he has just said too much.

"Ah. I see your point now," commented calmly the Fox.

Monastario sat quiet, abashed and angry, his thoughts too disturbed with turmoil of anxiety – if not panic – to find any reasonable answer.

"You want to sentence the council for aiding the criminal," stated Zorro and Monastario understood that no lie would mislead him now. "Do you know what this means?" continued the bandit. "You will have nothing else but a civil war at the pueblo."

"I will do anything necessary to fulfill my duties and protect…" started the _commandante_, but the bandit just spoke sharply:

"And what if you fail? If something goes wrong? Or if this Camero is not a leader, but only another agent, and the true danger is still to appear? How will you fight it, if you hostile the whole pueblo and get rid of all the landowners who could help you?"

"Stay out of this and enjoy that you yourself are still alive," muttered Monastario, unable to deafen the unpleasant reflection, that there might be some consequences of his plan he didn't think about. If the end of Camero won't bring the end of this mysterious feather-conspiracy, perhaps it would be indeed better to… but no, he didn't want even to consider it. His plan was too beautiful, too perfect to resign from it.

"Stay out of this, _bandido,_" he repeated only with a menace in his voice.

"Consider the lesser evil, _Capitán_," stated Zorro more quietly and seriously than even before. "I did, and I am ready to help you in fighting them. These men pose an uncommon threat… But my price is safety for all citizens of the pueblo."

Monastario grimaced at the idea that the bandit considered him to be lesser… danger. Well he will show him! And that this masker dares to dictate some terms!

The Fox must have read this thought from his face, as he shook his head with a sigh.

"The council – these men don't deserve it. You know that. They are not traitors," he said even quieter than before and there was something pleading in his voice. "Reconsider it, _Capitán_. There is still time… to mend everything."

Monastario for a moment blinked surprised with this new tone in the bandit's voice. This damn Fox never before spoke like this… and never before he spoke so much. So he really… cared… and these people indeed weren't… traitors… Well. Zorro's anxiety was the best proof how close to the victory Monastario was. He won't deter.

"You are so protective about them!" he exclaimed, trying to mask his doubts with irony. "I already know that you are not some common vagabond or vaquero… You wouldn't like to see your friends, your relatives, in troubles? Tell me, who are you most concerned about and for the sake of our acquaintance I will offer them… special treatment," the _commandante_ grinned maliciously. He hoped to tease the impudent bandit a little, to force him to finally show some fear… but he was totally unprepared for Zorro's answer.

"Abandon you plan against them, whatever it is, and I will not trouble you anymore. I will help you to get rid of Camero and then you will hear no more of me."

Monastario stared at the black clad man in disbelief and Zorro shifted a little, with a nonchalant bow:

"You see, _Capitán_, how pretty things may end?' he stated with laughter, but this time it was more nostalgic than mocking. "You will be the hero. You will get rid of the dangerous cheater, of the treacherous conspiracy… And there will be no black shadow to tamper with your career anymore. Probably you will be promoted…" said the Fox temptingly, but Monastario was too stunned with the bandit's offer to think about possible progress in his career.

Was he really ready to… give up? _El Zorro_, the elusive and… damn, the invincible Fox? To resign from his crusade against the _commandante_?

Oh, but that was the last thing Monastario wanted!

"Now you underestimate me, Fox…" he replied slowly, letting the most unpleasant secrets of his soul show on his face. "I do not seek… a truce. I will get rid of all my enemies, one by one. These fools from the council are first, your time will come later. In the meantime, you can watch your friends die."

_El Zorro _looked at him, straight at him, and even if the mask concealed his face, Monastario felt that his expression darkened. For a moment, through the _commandante's_ mind crossed unsettling associations about crossing the limits and the picture of the dead man in the smithy blurred in front of him – but then the Fox just straightened, relaxed and impudent as usual, the cocky grin returning to his face:

"You are mistaken, _Capitán_. I can do much more."

Monastario realized that the Fox accepted his refusal and their negotiations are finished. For one short, fleeting moment all his previous exhilaration and confidence was gone and he felt unexpected regret – and fear, fear that he is doing something very wrong, something bound to end very badly.

For one short, fleeting moment, he almost wanted to call to the bandit to stay. _It is still not too late, _passed through his mind, _I just have to tell him I accept his offer._

But his pride was stronger than his fear and bad premonitions, and he just sat motionless and silent, watching how Zorro unloaded his pistol, tossed it aside and set the window ajar.

Just before jumping out, the Fox leant back into the room:

"You forced me to do it the hard way, do not blame me for the consequences. I am afraid that the events may take quite… unpredictable direction now," he stated with the most flashing smile and saluted Monastario, just before disappearing in the darkness.


	13. The hard way 2

_Please accept my apologies for such long delay in updates. My life got a bit too hectic recently - and I also had to rest a little from this story I have been writing for more than a year. However, the end of the story is near (well, relatively near:) ) and will do my best to be more systematic now._

_I hope you will still enjoy the lecture._

_Ida_

* * *

**The hard way (2)**

When Pina woke up, he reflected quite philosophically that all he can expect today is another day full of lies. Surprisingly this thought didn't make him feel desperate, only called a sly smile on his face. After all, his position wasn't that bad. Difficult and complicated, certainly, but still not desperate.

_The only problem is to be the best liar of all, _he thought with satisfaction, as it seemed that he – at least so far – managed to be unbeaten in the ancient art of deception.

Camero wanted him to spy on Monastario; Monastario wanted him to spy on Camero. Generally, all Pina had to do to deal with the situation was visit the _commandante_ and the _magistrado_ alternately and assure each of them that his adversary is no more than a smug idiot.

Telling everyone exactly what he wanted to hear was the second rule of his game.

_If I only knew who will win this clash, _muttered Pina to himself, exiting his flat. The _alcalde's_ office was directly on the other side of the plaza, and the _licenciado_ could see from his threshold _haciendados'_ horses bound to a hitching post in front of it. Pina grimaced reluctantly, his good mood fading a little. So, some of the dons were already present. He certainly didn't enjoy spending time in their company. His name appeared in the council's report maybe not very often, but always in very negative context. Besides, the dons, keeping him for Monastario's representative, didn't spare him biting remarks…

"_Licenciado_!" he almost jumped, hearing Monastario's voice just behind him. "Walk with me for a while," ordered quietly the _commandante_, pointing him some empty side street.

Walking by Monastario's side, Pina shot at the _commandante_ cautious glance, trying to figure out what the reason of this conversation might be. He was a bit surprised to see how tired Monastario looked… Only yesterday he was beaming with his usual energy – and a bit unsettling exhilaration – and now his usual proud figure was a bit hunched, his face greyed from fatigue and generally he appeared to have a sleepless night behind him.

"I have been wondering… Do you think, _Licenciado_," started Monastario finally and even his voice was a bit unsure, "do you think that this Camero might have some… superior?"

Pina coughed to mask a surprised gasp. How did Monastario learn so soon about his latest discovery? How did he learn on his own about what was now the worst fear of the _licenciado_ – that Camero, so smug, so potent is still no more than someone's pawn? But no – when he looked at the _commandante's_ face, he understood that Monastario was only making the blind guess, he didn't know anything for sure.

"You are referring to the governor?" asked Pina to play on time.

"No, of course not!" bridled Monastario, sounding more like himself. "I am talking about this conspiracy. You know, the people with feathers. I told you about it."

Yes, the _commandante_ finally confided to Pina that a certain circle of conspirators has an interest in Los Angeles' affairs and that Camero is not a real emissary, but one of them, the imposter… Relating this to Pina, Monastario spoke very reluctantly, as if he wanted to hide something. If the _licenciado_ were more malicious, he could, for example, ask whether all these lists and maps the _commandante_ asked him to prepare some time ago were, by any chance, connected with this conspiracy… Anyway, Pina was certain that the _commandante_ told him much less that he knew – but it didn't matter, as it was also certain that he knew much less than the _licenciado_ already managed to learn on his own.

That was good. Recently he started to value his knowledge; it might be his life belt one day.

So, at Monastario's angry question he replied only:

"I do not know. I mean, I have seen or heard no clue that Camero might be… reporting to someone. I don't think so."

"That's what I thought too. That he is the leader," nodded Monastario with obvious relief. "Only that… well, recently I started to wonder… He behaves with such… confidence…"

"He is just the very smug man, stupidly smug," assured him Pina and, just as he expected, Monastario smirked with satisfaction.

Pina however got a bit anxious. He was certain that Monastario didn't start this conversation because he 'started to wonder' all of a sudden. The _commandante_ was certainly up to something… Still, though, the _licenciado_ would die to learn what Monastario was up to – no, wait, not die, something told him that in this case it is a very unfortunate expression – though he was very much eager to learn Monastario's plan, he knew that questions will do nothing.

The _commandante_ already strode back toward the plaza and Pina could do nothing but follow him. He already thought that they will part without further explanations, when suddenly Monastario stopped.

"Tomás," he said quietly and Pina immediately froze, surprised by both the fact that Monastario used his name and the unreadable expression on his face, "I am organizing tomorrow a meeting at the plaza. Very important meeting involving Camero, the _alcalde_, all the council," the _commandante_ announced this almost obliviously and Pina only nodded in reply, accepting the information.

But then Monastario added quietly, stressing each word:

"Don't go there, by any means."

"Aa... as you wish, I won't. Certainly," stuttered Pina, at total loss what Monastario's words can mean, but the _commandante_ didn't listen to him anymore, quickly heading toward the _cuartel_.

* * *

Monastario returned to the _cuartel_ in much better mood than he exited it, feeling strangely assured by Pina's opinion. Of course that Zorro was wrong. Camero was the head of the conspiracy, with his imprisonment and execution it will end. The _commandante_ saw for himself the pile of feathers in his desk and Pina's words were exactly the confirmation he needed. All in all, it was good to have this scribbler by his side. He was cowardly, but not stupid.

_And he is loyal, _thought Monastario with surprising gratitude about his associate, but his musings were interrupted by the loud voices and laughters of the soldiers gathered at the yard. The _commandante_ furrowed his eyebrows. What was the reason of such merriment?

The scowl on his face deepened when he saw some colorful figure among the lancers' jackets. De la Vega. Now, that was too much. Was it not enough that this dandy occupied the tavern, sitting there like some… like some jackal in wait for someone to bother with his irritating questions and silly remarks? Did he have to come to the _cuartel_ now? What for? Monastario narrowed his eyes and almost laughed in contempt seeing that Alejandro's son was sitting with the lancers over some big crate arranged to serve as a table and playing dice. Dice! How low the man can fall? To play dice with some boorish soldiers!

Anyway, the _commandante_ didn't want him here. He still didn't figure out how to inconspicuously send the lancer with orders for Dominguez. He needed to think about it calmly, and he certainly didn't want anyone, not even this dandy, to wander around and watch his hands.

Suddenly, he heard the loud moan of disappointment coming from the soldiers' throats. Its reason must have been some extremely lucky throw of de la Vega, as in this moment the young man raised his hands, assuring them with laughter.

"Please, Senores! I am not going to rob you of your payroll. I was only checking whether my luck is with me today."

"Of this you may be certain, Don Diego," muttered gloomily Garcia looking down at the dice. "If I had your luck, one week of playing dice and cards with wealthy travelers in Monterey or Santa Barbara would warrant me a year of life in comfort."

"And the next minute of playing dice on this yard instead of fulfilling your duties will warrant you the week in the cell," gnarled coldly Monastario nearing to the circle of his lancers, who immediately jumped on their feet, a bit awkwardly trying to stand up on attention.

De la Vega turned to Monastario with a friendly smile, cheerful and calm as usual – without even a shadow of his yesterday's tension and anxiety.

"Forgive me, _Commandante_, I am afraid that the distraction of your men is my fault," he stated casually. "They only tried to entertain me, when I was waiting for your return."

"Oh – so you came here for a reason, Senor?" replied Monastario quite rudely, his tone suggesting that he finds it hard to believe that such man as de la Vega could have any serious matter involving the _commandante_.

"Yes, you see, I have to send my manservant to the Mission San Gabriel," prattled the young man not discouraged by the _commandante's_ unpleasant manner. "For the Padre's oranges," he explained, even if Monastario didn't ask. "Yet he seems to have one of his bad days today."

"Bad days?" repeated Monastario confused.

"Oh, yes, Bernardo usually catches quite well what is wanted from him, but sometimes he has problems with… ehm… he just has worse moments," explained lightly the young man, pointing with a slight move of the head toward his servant sitting in the shadow of the wall.

The deaf mute was occupied tinkering with a big, sliver pocket watch. He was curled over his toy, stubbornly closing and opening the small lid, seeming absolutely oblivious to everything around. Monastario thought he would have problems not only with getting to the mission, but even with finding the _cuartel's_ gate.

"The sergeant was so kind to agree to escort Bernardo to the mission, so if you allow, I would gladly use his help. Myself, I still have a few errands to do at the pueblo…"

"Oh, there is no need for the little one to ride at all, if he feels bad," chimed in Sergeant Garcia, apparently welcoming the possibility of spending the day out of the pueblo and far from the _alcalde's_ archives. "I will go to the mission myself and do all the business with the Padre you need, Don Diego."

"Ah… well, yes. Thank you, Sergeant, that's the most kind of you," replied the young man and for a moment in his eyes shined a bit impatient glance. "Of course, if the _commandante_ allows and the _magistrado_ would not need your assistance... it would be good, if you could ride to the mission," he stressed.

"Of course I don't agree. It is not the soldiers' task to pamper the cripples," cut him off Monastario, shrugging his shoulders and turning back without further explanations. He would add a few words about how de la Vega should use his own servants to tend to his affairs, but he had no time. He had to find the way to send Sepulveda… Wait.

He had to send Sepulveda in the direction of the Mission St. Gabriel.

The _commandante_ turned slowly back, trying to call to his face the polite expression.

"On second thought, I am afraid I have been too harsh, Senor," he said to de la Vega. The young man waited calmly, looking in his direction with serene smile, as if he didn't hear his previous rude words.

"I am always glad to help the citizens of the pueblo," muttered Monastario dimly, hardly forcing such idiotic sentence out of his throat. "The Sergeant is unfortunately busy in the archives, but I will assign some other lancer," he finished more smoothly waving for Sepulveda.

"Thank you, _Capitán_, your help is indeed welcome," answered de la Vega, this time appearing to be fully satisfied, though Sergeant Garcia's face went low with very, very disappointed expression.

"Now, if this matter is done thanks to your most helpful assistance, _Capitán_, I will proceed with further errands," finished the young man with a polite bow. Before leaving the _cuartel_, he also stopped for a while and assuringly patted his servant's shoulder.

"Afterward, bring him back to the pueblo, Senor," he asked Sepulveda, then hesitated and turned to Garcia, adding casually: "And if by any chance I wouldn't be here, see that he returns home safely, Sergeant, will you?"

"Of course!" nodded the sergeant and young de la Vega exited the _cuartel_ without further delay.

The deaf mute looked behind him with surprisingly sober anxiety in his sight.

* * *

In the meantime Monastario entered his office, followed by a slightly surprised Sepulveda.

"Escort this mute to the mission and then sneak out somehow to the San Diego lancers," explained the _commandante_. "Loading these damn oranges should take some time… finally, no matter. He can wait for you. Just make sure that no one notices where you rode. Here are the orders for Dominguez."

He handed the soldier a small envelope and added with emphasis:

"You can repeat to him that the success of the whole undertaking depends on him following them according to each detail… and precisely following the timing."

"Understood," nodded Sepulveda.

"And come back as soon as possible. I must know whether Dominguez got the orders," stressed Monastario and, seeing that the lancer didn't move, asked impatiently: "Is there something else?"

"It's just that, _Capitán_…" Sepulveda clearly hesitated, as the man realizing that he is walking on very thin ice, "If you are satisfied with my service… Not that I am complaining at your generosity, _Capitán_," he added quickly seeing an irritated scowl forming at Monastario's face. "It is just that I have been a private since three years already…"

"You would like to be promoted to the corporal?" asked knowingly the _commandante_, but to his surprise, Sepulveda hesitated even more.

"I would be honored, but… as I said, if you are satisfied with me…" he stuttered and Monastario understood that Sepulveda is hoping to make his status as the _capitán's_ right hand more official.

"I'll think about it," he replied evasively, but it was enough for the lancer to beam and salute with the new ardour.

"I will carry on your orders, _Capitán_," he exclaimed eagerly leaving the office.

Monastario looked behind him with consideration. It was to be expected that the lancer will finally start asking for some… substantial reward for all the fishy tasks he settled for the _commandante_. He exited his office and for a while looked at the direction of Sergeant Garcia, who now, sitting at the crate that previously served as the dicing table, perorated something to Corporal Reyes, wavering dreamily on his rifle. Yes, Sepulveda was definitely more resourceful and ambitious than Garcia...

And that was exactly why Monastario had not the slightest intention of making Sepulveda his second.

Besides, he got used to this fat idiot.

"Garcia!" he yelled, observing with amusement how the soldier jumped to his feet, knocking down the crate and almost losing his balance. "What are you still doing here! Didn't I tell you to go to the _alcalde_? Do you really prefer to spend the next week in the cell?"

The sergeant muttered something incomprehensible and rushed toward the gate, correcting in haste his a bit battered uniform. Monastario observed him chuckling, until he hit his temple at the sudden thought. In all this commotion he almost forgot about the most important detail!

"Garcia!" he shouted again. "Come back! You will make an announcement in my name to the council and to the _magistrado_," he explained when the breathless lancer neared to him. "Now listen carefully what you are to repeat to them, and if you misspeak even one word, I will skin you alive personally."

* * *

Pina entered the _alcalde's_ office totally thrown out of balance by the conversation with the _commandante_. As soon as the _licenciado_ started to feel some… confidence, enjoying his skills in dealing with the intrigues around him, something must have happened to remind him that the world is full of unpleasant surprises!

What will take place tomorrow at the plaza?

_I have no reason to worry myself, _consoled himself Pina. _So far, both Camero and Monastario trust me. So far, I managed to be on good terms with everyone. Well, almost everyone, _he corrected himself hearing the loud voice of Alejandro de la Vega talking with the _alcalde_.

He sneaked cautiously to the room and quickly took a place near the book shelves, hoping that no one will pay attention to him. Usually, during the meeting with the _haciendados_, to avoid answering their charges, he tried to appear as small and inconspicuous as possible, hiding himself behind the papers – and ignoring the pleading glances of Sergeant Garcia who desperately struggled to protect the garrison's honor in the uneven fight against the accusations of the angry landowners.

Why Garcia even tried to say something was beyond Pina's understanding. The _licenciado_ certainly wouldn't risk a confrontation with all the infuriated dons, almost panting with the desire to revenge on the _commandante_ for all the humiliations.

Besides, explaining Monastario's decisions as honest and reasonable was the task that not only Pina, but even the best lawyer in Mexico, would call impossible.

Still, the poor soldier, red and sweaty, bravely stuttered some nonsenses – usually finishing with the most pitiful "Please?...", followed by the pleading glance of the beaten puppy. Well, on the other hand it was probably the only thing that could stop an angry tirade of Don Alejandro and make him speak a bit more leniently…

When Pina entered, Garcia was not present, but luckily all the dons were occupied talking to the _magistrado_. They expressed their reasons with fire and engagement and Camero nodded, seeming to be totally convinced – though Pina knew him already well enough to see that he was bored and impatient.

"Have you heard that supposedly Zorro appeared yesterday at the _cuartel_?" suddenly said one of the dons. "Some lancers saw him riding away on this hellish horse of his… and Monastario was foaming with fury all the evening," he chuckled.

"Perhaps he was only pretending," commented slowly Camero and Pina noticed how his eyes lit with a new idea.

"Who was pretending? Zorro?" asked Don Augustin in confusion.

"No. Monastario," replied Camero and, having gathered surprised sights of the _haciendados_, elucidated with junction. "Perhaps he was pretending that he was furious. Perhaps Zorro appeared in the _cuartel_, because the _commandante_ ordered him to."

"What? _El Zorro_ does not take orders from Monastario!" laughed loudly Don Alejandro, but Pina almost closed his eyes in desperation. He understood immediately where Camero was driving at… and it meant that the _magistrado_ stopped counting for Monastario's allegiance and was preparing… the confrontation. Yes, that was the right word. The confrontation was near.

"I am not so sure about it," spoke in the meantime Camero, always with the most confident expression on his face. "I believe that they might be working together… against me. Against us, my friends," he concluded dramatically, running his sight over the faces of the astonished dons.

Everyone present froze in surprised silence, broken roughly by Alejandro de la Vega

"Well, that's the pack of nonsense!" he burst out, jumping to his feet and measuring the _magistrado_ with angry glance.

The surprised silence turned into the flat stillness, as the other dons dared not to move even to breath louder.

For the first time one of them spoke to the _magistrado_ in such way.

Apparently Camero miscalculated a little, hoping that he can win all the battles about their hearts. At least when it came to Alejandro de la Vega's heart, the _magistrado_ shouldn't have tried to compete with the Fox… as he lost immediately.

"But… how can you know that it was your noble warrior, Senor de la Vega?" stuttered Camero after a while. "How can you know, it is not some rascal that the _commandante_ hired to lure the people in black disguise? All I am asking for, Senores, is that you keep caution against the man in black mask, that you would not listen to his words too rashly."

The _magistrado_ spoke smoothly, but his confusion was clear and Pina smirked maliciously in his corner.

"When I see him, I will know for sure whether this is _el Zorro_ or not. I am not blind," gnarled Don Alejandro with his usual temper. The confrontation would go further, had it not been for the loud entrance of Sergeant Garcia, red, breathless and even more abashed than usual.

"Senor _Magistrado_, Senores," he bowed clumsily, "I have the message from the _commandante_."

Having said this, he stammered silently, looking quickly around as if in desperate search of words.

"And this message is?... Can you voice it, esteemed Sergeant?" mocked him Camero venomously.

"Oh, just let him speak!..." bridled Don Alejandro.

Having faced for the second time open reproof from the most significant landowner, Camero decided to retreat and even forced himself to the sour, apologizing smile.

"The _commandante_ would like to invite you – I mean, you, Senor _Magistrado_ and you, Senores – to the meeting at the plaza, tomorrow at noon," said the Sergeant, now so abashed that his cheeks were simply burning.

"What is the reason of this meeting?" asked calmly Ignatio Torres.

"I really do not know, Don Nacho," Garcia turned to him pleading glance. "The _commandante_ only said that the presence of all of you is the most… the most… the most desirable," he recited finally.

"Now that's outrageous!" exclaimed Don Augustin. "Are we some schoolboys to be summoned whenever he wills? He should come here himself and explain the reason of it!"

"Don Augustin, I really…" started unsurely the sergeant, when Camero cut him off:

"I will tell you the reason, Senores. Your _commandante_ decided to counteract my rightful investigation," he stated solemnly, "and throws me an open challenge. Well, I will be there, to defend justice and the legitimate power of the governor, and I hope I can count on your help… on the help of each noble Spaniard, who cannot bear injustice and is ready to protect it with his blade and his blood, if necessary!" the _magistrado_ finished fervently.

_Well, well, are we going to cry?..._ commented ironically Pina as the dons around him cheered loudly, assuring Camero of their unquestionable support.

Sergeant Garcia, shaking desperately his head, retreated from the room, but Pina remained on his place, torn between contradictory emotions.

_Don't go to the plaza by any means... Don't go to the plaza by any means… _Monastario's warning clang in his head repeatedly, when the dons, full of ardor and in the most battle-ready mood left the room, promising Camero to appear at the plaza fully armed and with some servants… and when the _magistrado_ left, sending him the knowing glance indicating that he wants to speak with him later…

_Don't go to the plaza by any means..._

Only Alejandro de la Vega was left with the _alcalde_ – and Pina noticed very well that both men remained quiet and serious in the joyous commotion in the room. None of them approached the _magistrado_ with words of support, as the others did.

If the _licenciado_ would like to warn them, it was a perfect moment.

_Shall I warn them? _ wondered Pina. _I probably should. They are like puppies playing blind man's bluff among hungry wolfs. Walking straight into danger they know nothing about. I should warn them if I do not want to see more people dead because of something I knew…_

He looked with consideration at the men present in the office. The _alcalde_ sat quietly behind his desk, still deep in some considerations, but Alejandro de la Vega paced agitated up and down the room. When his eyes accidentally fell on the _licenciado_, he sent him a glance usually reserved for rats caught in the cellar and Pina's will to warn the don wavered a little.

"Our _magistrado_ managed to irritate you a little, my friend?" noticed outwardly casually the _alcalde_.

"Bah! I just do not understand his aversion toward _el Zorro!"_ de la Vega huffed angrily.

"Well, after all the Fox killed one of his men…" remarked the _alcalde_ in the same tone as before, but his friend only shrugged fervently:

"He must have had a reason!"

_When someone earns his trust, he knows no limits in his loyalty, _thought Pina a little nostalgically. He would like to have someone standing for him so decisively as Don Alejandro stood for the masked bandit… though he even didn't know his name. _If I warn him now, will he defend me too? Will he protect me from both Camero and Monastario?_

"But try to see it from the _magistrado's_ point of view," continued the _alcalde_. "It is natural that he tries to explain this misfortunate incident somehow. Would it be so unlikely for Monastario to hire some rascal, ordering him to wear the black disguise? You know how twisted this man can be in his intrigues. Do not take offence for these words about your superior, _Licenciado," _he turned to Pina with apologetic smile. "You know yourself…"

The _licenciado_ nodded to show he understands the situation perfectly.

"I haven't heard that the _commandante_ would hire someone to pose as the Fox… but it wouldn't be unlikely," he admitted almost with a smile. These were respectable men, both the _alcalde_ and de la Vega. They didn't deserve to fall victims in one of Monastario's games. He should warn them…

"True, true," Alejandro waved his hand, giving up a little. "I am only saying that when I see the Fox, I will know whether it is the real one. He has a unique manner in his bearing."

"So, let us consider all options," the _alcalde_ spoke further, keeping the causal expression, but Pina couldn't not notice the new tone in his voice. "Providing that this was the real Zorro, what reason might he have had to attack the man of the governor's emissary? If Camero is the honest man…"

He hung his voice unexpectedly, so that it gave a new dimension to his last remark. Alejandro stopped walking and met the eyes of his friend with reflective, worried glance.

"Your son has been dubious about this man since the very beginning," added quietly the _alcalde_.

To Pina's surprise, Alejandro at first bridled slightly, but then on his face appeared something close to the ashamed smile:

"I will never admit to Diego after all the rows we had about it… but I begin to wonder whether he wasn't right," he confessed.

_I could tell them all now… All about Camero, _realized Pina. _Maybe that would be the right way, the honest way…_

He was almost opening his mouth, when he hesitated again. It would be not only the honest way, it would be also the extremely brave way. Stupidly brave, one could say. Playing the double game was risky enough, would he now dare to betray both Camero and Monastario to the third party? Would they be willing and strong enough to protect him from the vengeance?

"Perhaps we should talk with Diego once again… reconsider all his arguments…" suggested the _alcalde_.

"What for? He told me his opinion many times," objected de la Vega a bit too rashly. He started to walk through the room again, falling deeper and deeper into some troubling considerations. Finally stopped abruptly in front of the _alcalde_:

"Diego is only good at avoiding troubles, that's his aim, undisturbed peace. We struggle to achieve something more. Justice. Even if I would like to… even if I hoped…" he shook his head, running the fingers through his hair with a tired sigh… and then burst out, totally forgetting about Pina's presence:

"Diego might as well have never returned from Spain, he is never at home anyway! To do nothing and still have no time for anything, that's the real gift!"

_He is feeling guilty, _realized Pina_. That's why he is so angry. Guilty, because he cannot accept his son being something less than he expected. Still, he just cannot… he won't accept any weakness. _

And the _licenciado_ was the man of many… weaknesses. De la Vega wouldn't negotiate with him. _He would expect me to step openly against Monastario… against Camero… just as he is always ready to. He would probably state that I should… condone my sinful life, _Pina smirked bitterly. That was not necessarily what he was interested in.

_You are a man with high expectations, Senor de la Vega, too high for such little scoundrel like me… _the _licenciado_ grimaced, half with irony, half with disappointment. He won't warn them. He won't choose the honest way. He will feel guilty, true – but he will survive.

The _alcalde_ sighed with embarrassment, but he didn't try to persuade his friend anymore:

"So, what are we going to do tomorrow?" he asked only.

"I will come and listen what Monastario has to say," Alejandro shrugged his shoulders, slowly calming down. He appeared to be a little ashamed of his outburst.

"Don't you think it might be a bit… unreasonable? If that's some new intrigue…"

"So my presence is even more required!" the don again raised his voice. "A de la Vega cannot neglect the important moment of the pueblo. The other dons count on me. Besides, if something is going to happen, I must be there to try to prevent it!"

The _alcalde_ couldn't help but smile a little at his friend's fervent answer.

"You do not always have to be the one to mend all the wrong. Sometimes you might let the others do it," he commented a bit teasingly. Alejandro smirked too, shaking his head:

"If everyone would say so, the world would stay still and the rascals would plunder it," he retorted.

_Nothing would stop him from taking part in it. Even if he knew that he is going straight to his doom, he would still do it. Well, I am not going to walk by his side, _concluded Pina. There was no sense in passing the warning to the man who wouldn't use it anyway. The _licenciado_ wouldn't save him, he would only lose himself.

He stood up decisively, bowed in a farewell and walked out without remorse.

* * *

When Pina reached Camero's house, the servant immediately showed him to the reading room. The _magistrado_ sat in the armchair, plucking impatiently on the laces of his cuffs. When he saw Pina, he neither greeted him, nor offered him a seat, only asked straightly:

"I think that your _commandante_ finally decided to throw the dice… and step against me. How could you not notice that he bears such intentions?"

The _licenciado_ kept his sight, even if his stomach curled with anxiety.

"I suspect that he stopped trusting me seeing how close we started to work," he replied with the most certainty he could muster.

To his relief, after a while Camero nodded slowly and then just waved his hand.

"Well, no matter. This will only help me to get control of the pueblo. I will arrest him and remove him from duty. Gonzales will take his place and I will have the garrison, all the lancers and all the armory under my command."

"The _capitán_ will never give up without a fight," remarked Pina, feeling strangely uneasy at the very thought of Monastario being defeated and arrested.

"Perhaps, but he does not stand a chance, with all my men well-armed, and with the dons prepared…" started Camero, but stopped, seeing one of his servants entering the room.

"You have a visitor, Senor _Magistrado_. Don Diego de la Vega," said the man at the silent question in his master's eyes.

"De la Vega? Diego de la Vega? This young and tall one who always has something stupid to say? And what may he want?" surprised Camero looking questioningly at Pina, but the _licenciado_ only shrugged his shoulders.

"All right then. Show him in," sighed Camero.

"Wait!" Pina cast anxious glace toward the door. "I do not want him to see me here," he explained.

Theoretically, he might have many official reasons to visit the _magistrado_, but still, Camero and he tried to keep their meetings as discreet as possible.

"Right," nodded Camero. "Go and wait here," he said pointing him the side doors to the small room that must have served as the guest bedroom.

The _licenciado_ quickly hid himself in the room, leaving – just in case – the door behind him slightly ajar and looked around the shelves in search for some suitable lecture. In the meantime, he heard the visitor entering the adjacent chamber.

"Welcome, Senor! It is a pleasure. How can I help you?" exclaimed Camero with the most professional courtesy, but to Pina's surprise there was no answer. He waited with a forgotten book in his hand, his eyebrows rising up as the silence prolonged… to be finally broken again by the voice of the _magistrado_, this time almost strangled in confusion:

"I… I do not understand…"

Pina put the book aside, turning himself to the doors to see what could have caused such change in Camero's behavior, but then he heard de la Vega:

"And what's there to understand, Senor?"

Pina froze. He never heard the young man speak in such manner. His voice was… cold and mocking. Disdainful. No, no. How could Diego de la Vega be cold and disdainful? If the _licenciado_ didn't see him through the ajar door, he would never believe that it was him speaking…

"I just… I thought… I was told that I will have a free hand…" stuttered Camero.

"Oh, you were told so?" replied de la Vega as if finding great amusement in his interlocutor's confusion.

Pina couldn't refrain himself from opening the doors a bit wider to get a better glimpse of the scene. And then he immediately moved backed, trembling in shock.

De la Vega sat comfortably in front of the _magistrado's_ desk – and Camero, almost petrified, stared at the strangely cut eagle's feather the young man was keeping in his hand, playing with it in the most nonchalant manner.

Pina's thoughts were running with the lightning speed. Diego de la Vega being the member of the nefarious conspiracy? One of the men who struggle for power with all the ruthlessness, not hesitant even to commit murder? Calm, polite and gentle Diego de la Vega? Impossible!

_On the other hand – why not? _considered the _licenciado_, feeling the chilly shiver along his spine.

He always felt, he always knew that there was something odd in this young man. Some strange inconsistency in his behavior, in his words, in his manners – the inconsistency Pina was never able to grasp and decipher. He could only say that there was something… more in him. _More than meets the eye_, he recalled on one of their first meetings.

For a while, he suspected that it was because de la Vega was Zorro. Many evidence showed that he was mistaken. What if the young man's secret was… this? Participating in the most complicated and dangerous intrigue Pina ever heard about? When he thought about it deeper, it wasn't that unlikely. Diego de la Vega was intelligent and always kept himself in control – aren't these the features of a good conspirator?… And Alejandro de la Vega mentioned that his son is always absent.

Who knows, perhaps the young man's ambitions were much wider than his father's rancho...

_One thing is certain, he is just too… suave to be only this kindly fop everyone keeps him for… _thought Pina, returning to the door, in order not to lose even one word from the conversation.

In the adjacent room, Camero still protested, his voice full of disbelief.

"But I was told nothing about you, Senor… I never heard… well, I heard about your family, but never… in such context… Senorita Peréz wrote nothing about you!" he finished almost with despair, as the man catching the last argument.

"I know that she didn't," Diego de la Vega replied only with undisturbed… smugness.

Diego de la Vega being smug! Pina shook his head. Indeed, the world could be full of surprises!

"So, the Eagle doesn't trust me? Why?..." asked quietly Camero.

_Does he not hear how pitiful he sounds?_ thought Pina maliciously, but then he concentrated on this strange nickname. The Eagle? He never heard it before. There must have been a lot Camero didn't lead him into…

"I do not know what he thinks about you," de la Vega shrugged his shoulders, not seeming to be moved even a little by the pleading tone in Camero's voice. "And I am not here to satisfy your curiosity. I simply have the message for you."

"I won't consult my actions…" started the _magistrado_ defensively in an attempt to regain the control of the conversation, but Diego de la Vega just cut him off coldly:

"Who speaks about consulting? I didn't come here to consult anything, only to tell you what to do."

Diego de la Vega giving orders! The _licenciado_ shook his head again. _Life can fulfill our wishes in the most twisted manner, Don Alejandro, _he thought, recalling his meeting with the older de la Vega. Apparently avoiding troubles wasn't the only thing the young don was good at… but still, Pina doubted that his father would be proud seeing his son associating with murderers.

"So, I am listening," muttered Camero through clenched teeth.

"Tomorrow at dawn you will take your men and ride down the trail to the Mission San Gabriel. You are to meet someone there."

"Who? Is it the new cargo from San Diego?" asked feverishly the _magistrado_.

Pina narrowed his eyes. What cargo? Camero never mentioned any cargo from San Diego. What new menace was it? Or was the _magistrado_ only… testing de la Vega, provoking him with some false suggestion to make some mistake? The _licenciado_ lured with the moment of silence, peeked closer into the room.

Diego de la Vega at least hesitated for a moment, correcting some strand of hair behind his ear.

"I have no idea," he finally confessed with laughter.

"Ah, so the Eagle didn't tell you neither!" exclaimed triumphantly Camero, evidently relieved that his young rival is not closer in the good graces of their mysterious superior.

"No. He didn't," commented only de la Vega, still laughing, and stood up. "Listen, Senor_ Magistrado_. I told you the message, what you do with it, is your business. It that's your wish, you may ignore it… and deal with the consequences."

Diego de la Vega threatening someone? The _licenciado_ started to shake his head, but then stopped. It was the high time to stop wondering.

He heard the doors of the reading room being opened and closed, the sound of de la Vega's steps fading behind them – and then Camero entered Pina's room, all in confusion.

"What was it? Who is this man?" he asked with a wild look in his eyes.

"Diego de la Vega… Son of Don Alejandro…" mumbled the _licenciado_ and Camero interrupted him angrily:

"I know so much! It is not what I am asking about! How is it possible that he had the feather? The leader's feather?"

Pina weighed his next words very carefully.

"I never heard about him being involved in some… suspicious plot. But if I had to name the person in this pueblo most likely to take part in such, he would be the one," he answered honestly.

"I understand… but I have never heard about him!" Camero exclaimed once again with despair.

"Isn't that how you work?..." reminded him the _licenciado_ a bit maliciously.

Camero only nodded, evidently struggling to regain self-control.

Pina thought for a moment that actually… actually Diego de la Vega said nothing… substantial. When the _licenciado_ repeated in his mind the conversation he just overheard, he couldn't not notice that the young don was in fact very… taciturn in words. Maybe this was because of this impudent manner he suddenly took. Maybe. Or maybe… he simply didn't know any details?

Yet Pina kept this thought for himself. If there indeed was some kind of… game between de la Vega and Camero, he strongly hoped that the young caballero will win it.

After all, when he arrived to the pueblo, dead bodies didn't start appearing in the ravines…

"So, what are you going to do, Senor?" he asked only after a while.

"Go there and speak with these people," the _magistrado_ shrugged his shoulders. "There will be still plenty of time to return for the meeting with _Capitán_ Monastario… And if this is a trap of some kind…" he mused for a while, "even if this is a trap, I prefer to fall into it, than to risk angering the Eagle. You see, _Licenciado_," he sighed, "if I get into the troubles, he has the power to help me out of them. But if I failed his trust, nothing would save me…"

Pina only nodded. That Eagle seemed to be an intriguing person… When de la Vega appeared all of the sudden waving with the feather, Camero's main worry was that he lost the trust of this unknown leader. He barely listened to anything else… And now he was ready to risk everything but the disgrace.

"Still, just in case…" spoke Camero, who apparently managed to overcome the confusion and gather his thoughts in the meantime. "If I get into troubles, you, _Licenciado_, will ride to the small tavern situated on the south trail. Its inn-keeper is one of our men. You will inform him about everything as soon as possible and he will know what to do to get me out of any predicament."

"Of course," Pina nodded again, thinking that he indeed may do it, just in case. This Eagle didn't look like the person he would like to get on his bad side.

"There is still the matter of the cargo," added Camero. From his voice and face Pina read immediately that this is the information the _magistrado_ was very reluctant to share and did it only because he was forced by the circumstances. "The first part stores this inn-keeper, and the second part I brought with me. Now listen carefully, _Licenciado_. If something happens to me…"

He started to speak slowly, making sure that Pina understood everything.

The _licenciado_ sat in front of him and listened carefully.

* * *

Monastario immediately noticed de la Vega's cart, now loaded with some crates, arriving at the plaza. Sepulveda, who was keeping the reins, neared close to the _cuartel's_ gate and jumped out, throwing a furious glance toward the mute servant squeezed at the other side of the bench.

"And what the hell happened to you?" exclaimed Monastario seeing the impressive bruise forming at his soldier's temple.

"That dummy cripple almost crashed the carriage!" gnarled Sepulveda. "We landed in some trough and I got such a hit to my head, that it simply dazed me for a while. I didn't let him even touch the reins after that! That dumb…"

"Oh, well, he didn't kill you," the _commandante_ waved dismissively his hand. "Now, did you pass the orders to Dominguez?"

"I did," nodded Sepulveda, a bit calmer, though he still casted angry glances toward the de la Vega servant.

"He read it and understood everything?" made sure Monastario.

"Yes. He said he will follow the orders precisely."

"All right then, now go and take care of yourself. I will need you in good form tomorrow," said the _commandante_ and smiled to himself with satisfaction. Everything was going just according to the plan… Oh, he acted so quickly, so effectively… Even Zorro didn't manage to stop him!

Sepulveda disappeared behind the gate and Monastario was just to follow him, when his eyes fell on de la Vega's servant. The deaf mute was still sitting in the carriage, looking around with an anxious, fearful expression…

_Oh, I cannot just leave him here like this! _gnarled silently the _commandante_. _Where are these de la Vega idiots? They should take care about their cripple!_

As ordered, Diego de la Vega appeared out of somewhere, striding quickly toward the carriage, seeming to be – if at all possible – in even better mood than on the morning. Seeing him, the servant literally beamed with relief, the anxiety washed away from his face in a second as he wiped his temple.

His master only smiled and winked, jumping into the seat. When the carriage set off, Monastario heard him whistle some merry melody.

The _commandante_ chuckled, seeing that it was the servant who held the reins. _Senor de la Vega, it seems that you are risking a lot today! _he thought in amusement, recalling the Sepulveda's adventure.

* * *

It was noon.

Monastario was ready. He looked once again at his lancers waiting at the yard, fully armed, though trying to appear casual for any passer-by peeking into the _cuartel_. Two best shooters were lying flatly on the roof, carefully hidden behind the chimneys. And the San Diego lancers, led by Sergeant Dominguez, should be just nearing to Los Angeles.

All he had to do now was to play his role – and it was very simple. He will expose Camero in front of the entire pueblo, call him an imposter, a cheater, a traitor – in fact, he will simply tell the truth.

And certainly no one is going to believe him.

Camero will reply by accusing him of treason and ask the dons for help. They will follow him; Monastario will call his lacers, the fight will begin – and then the San Diego lancers will appear, blocking the way out of the plaza and outweighing the balance of power in Monastario's favor.

That was the scenario for this game. The pawns were set. The chessboard was his. Now it was enough to say 'checkmate'.

The _commandante_ took a deep breath, corrected his uniform, straightened and exited to the plaza.

Some of the dons were already present, waiting, gathered in the small groups and chatting, the others were still arriving. _Cannot they be punctual even once? _Monastario bit his lips with irritation. He wanted everyone to be present when he will confront Camero – who, by the way, was still absent as well.

The conversations between the _haciendados_ silenced as they looked at him expectantly.

"So, _Capitán_? What's the reason of this unusual meeting?" asked Alejandro de la Vega.

"Let's wait for everyone to arrive," replied evasively Monastario, folding his hands, in order not to show his nervousness.

"Are you going to keep us here standing on the sun for hours?" gnarled Don Augustin.

"It is not me who is late, only Senor Camero," pointed out the _commandante_ through clenched teeth. Really, where was this false rascal? He already found it difficult to keep his temper on the leash.

"It is _Magistrado_ Camero," stressed one of the dons. "You should speak about him with more respect."

Damn, how bold these men grew in such a short time! Monastario closed his eyes for a moment to get the hold of rising fury.

"And you should be more cautious in whom you put your trust," he replied coldly.

"Maybe you suggest, _Capitán_, that we should put our trust in you?" asked dryly Don Alejandro and the gathered dons choked with malicious laughters.

Sometimes de la Vega was even more infuriating than Zorro himself. Monastario closed his eyes again and clenched his fists, praying that Camero would appear soon and this torment would end.

The sound of the galloping horse sounded like the most beautiful music in his ears, until he realized that it is only one, sole rider, not the _magistrado_ with his men.

Besides, he was nearing from the opposite direction than Camero's house.

The _commandante_ opened his eyes and turned toward the few wagons with supplies he left on the other side of the plaza as the small barricade blocking the exit. Like the man dreaming the worst nightmare he watched the black rider jumping smoothly over the obstacle and landing gracefully at the middle of the plaza.

The raven horse decided to add something own to the dramatic entrance and reared highly, dancing on his back legs from that moment in front of the eyes of the astonished men, so that the cape of his rider fluttered picturesquely in the air for a moment.

_Poseur! _Monastario at first bridled with irritation, but then he almost moaned, realizing that _el Zorro _appeared again to mess with his plans. Though the _commandante_ could not see how this trickster could stop him now, he had the worst feelings about it.

"Senores, _Commandante_," the bandit bowed ceremoniously, relishing the petrified silence that fell on the plaza after his appearance, "forgive me for interrupting your meeting, but it is just… not a good day for gatherings."

Then his horse danced a small circle and the bandit neared to Monastario leaning confidently toward the _commandante_:

"Just call it off now. It would be the best – especially for you, _Capitán_," he advised, still with merry smile, but also with some strange tone of warning in his voice.

Monastario looked around in search for the inspiration. It crossed through his mind that the lancers hidden at the _cuartel's_ roof had a clear shot at the bandit now. If he only gave them the sign… But then his great trap would be spoilt prematurely!

"It would be the best for you to go your way," he gnarled only, trying to be menacing, though he heard himself how unconvincing his threat sounded. "What is the reason of this intrusion?"

"I just want to make sure that everything goes as it should," replied Zorro innocently. "Besides," he added with a merry grin, "I would never miss it."

Monastario swallowed loudly, unable to hide anxiety. Whatever the Fox meant by "the things going as they should" it was certainly something opposite to the _commandante's_ definition.

"Why did you come here, Senor?" asked calmly Alejandro de la Vega.

"To save you from troubles, Senores, you were very close to," replied the Fox, now serious. "You made a mistake…"

"Do not try to lure us!" Don Augustin interrupted the masked bandit unexpectedly." We know it is all his trick," he stated firmly, pointing at Monastario.

For a while, both Zorro and the _commandante_ stared at the don, the bandit with widely opened eyes, Monastario – with equally widely opened mouth.

"Well, yes, it is all his trick," agreed the Fox, "all except of my presence here."

_Exactly, _wanted to say Monastario, but luckily he bit his tongue in time. Don Augustin prepared to retort, but Alejandro quieted him raising the hand.

"What mistake did we make?" he asked slowly, piercing the masked man with tense glance.

"Camero is the imposter and the _Capitán_ intends to arrest all of you for helping him," explained simply the Fox and Monastario almost moaned loudly. _El Zorro_ exposed Camero exactly as Monastario wanted, but he did it too early. Monastario couldn't deny his words, if he wanted to throw the same accusation later… but if he confirms it, his beautifully planned trap would be destroyed! The _commandante's_ head started to pulse in pain.

What's worse, the dons didn't dismiss Zorro's revelation so easily, as they certainly would do if it were Monastario accusing the _magistrado_. True, some of them gasped in disbelief and started to protest, but to Monastario's despair, only some of them. The others looked at themselves in consideration.

The _commandante_ knew he should do something to save his plan from turning into the total catastrophe, but he had no idea what. Oh, if at least Camero were here, it still wasn't too late for one, big brawl… but the _magistrado_ was still nowhere in view.

"The cheater? So he is not the governor's emissary?" de la Vega in the meantime inquired further, when his fervent friend exclaimed angrily:

"Don't talk with this man, Alejandro! Camero warned us against him! Don't you see it is some twisted intrigue?"

"Of this I am sure since I first heard about this meeting," muttered de la Vega, sending the gloomy glance toward Monastario.

"So why did you come here, Senor, walking straight in the trap like a child?' bridled suddenly Zorro with irritation. "Why did you all come?" he looked around at the faces of confused dons. "Haven't you learnt to be more watchful yet?"

"Listen, you masker, whatever your name is…" gasped Don Augustin, outraged at the accusation in the outlaw's voice. He pushed his way forward and when some of the dons tried to stop him, he shook their hands with irritation, stepping in front of the masked rider, speaking with fire that grew as he got carried by his own words:

"You won't trick us. We thought you fight against injustice and though you have chosen the way of an outlaw, we found in our hearts the admiration for your courage and determination. But then you attacked the man of law, the governor's emissary, sent here to help us in a rightful way." He took a deep breath and finished most solemnly: "You are not the sword of justice, as some naïve poor call you, you are the messenger of chaos!..."

"Oh, be quiet, Augustin," advised him Don Alejandro heartily. "All of you, be quiet!" he announced looking around at the muttering dons. "I believe in the integrity of this man, though he keeps hiding behind the mask. If he says that Camero may be cheating us, I want at least to hear his reasons!"

"Thank you for your trust, Senor," replied quietly the Fox, surprisingly sounding not grateful, but bitter.

"Your support for the bandit has been noted, Senor de la Vega," muttered Monastario simultaneously. For a second he hoped at some brawl between the _haciendados_ and the Fox – that would be an interesting development of events! – but of course Alejandro had to spoil it, as usual.

He didn't care anymore. To hell with Camero, he will simply kill the bastard later. And to hell with his sophisticated intrigue. He will arrest everyone present and consider calmly what to do after that, when all this mess will be closed in his cells.

The _commandante_ almost raised his hand turning toward the _cuartel_ to call for the lancers, when through the commotion on the plaza he heard the rider nearing in full gallop.

_Soldiers from San Diego, good, _he thought, before he realized that it is only one man, not the whole detachment.

Strangled with an unpleasant feeling of déjà vu, the _commandante_ watched for the second time a rider jumping over his small barricade, straight into the middle of the plaza. Though this time the horse was not black, but chestnut, and the rider was wearing the lancer's uniform.

"You do not care too much for the order on the streets in this pueblo, _Capitán_," noticed maliciously Sergeant Dominguez, glancing back at the broken carts he just jumped over. "I came to report…" he started turning to the plaza, but then his sight fell on Zorro and he interrupted rapidly, staring at the masked man in black.

"Please. Do not let my presence disturb you," encouraged him politely the Fox, moving back a little, with inviting gesture pointing the free place at the middle of the plaza.

The sergeant automatically rode forward but couldn't regain the lost thread, his eyes returning back and back again to the black rider.

"I, ah… well, I…" he stuttered in confusion, until Monastario, now totally out of control, yelled furiously:

"What are you doing here alone, you idiot!"

Dominguez shook like the dog getting out of water, the anger at the insult helping him to get over the impression the black rider made on him.

"To start with, I would prefer you would address me more formally, _Capitán_. Luckily I am not one of your soldiers," he retorted venomously. "Secondly, I am just fulfilling your precious orders."

"What? Cannot you even read?" hissed Monastario.

"I did precisely what you wrote me, if you have problems with your memory that's not my fault!" snapped back Dominguez, tossing at him some rolled paper. The _commandante_ recognized his own seal on it, but didn't read it. He was so furious that he hardly could see straight, let alone read.

Now everything was lost, if this stupid brat showed himself too early, worse, if he arrived alone, there was no chance of arresting the dons, even Camero might get away… Damn, Camero! If he saw what is happening here!...

"Oh, you!... I will have you court-martialed! If this criminal escapes because of you!..." Monastario almost threw himself at the sergeant, forgetting that Dominguez, sitting on horseback, has an upper hand against him, when Zorro's black horse blocked his way.

"Please _Capitán_, speak slower, think quicker," muttered the Fox with shadow of compassion in his voice.

"Criminal? You mean this Camero?" asked Dominguez in confusion, retreating a bit to put some distance between him and the black rider. "But I already arrested him, at the trail. He was exactly where you wrote me. What's happening with you, _Capitán_?"

"You what?... You arrested him? But you were to do it here, later!" yelled Monastario, now totally at loss what happened and why, realizing only that nothing will save his beautiful 'checkmate' from total disaster.

"Oh, no, _Capitán_. Do not go this way. Believe me," Zorro grimaced with mocking regret.

Monastario, gasping heavily looked around and, though he was almost unconscious with fury, he noticed some dons looking at them with very cautious expressions.

"Later? What do you mean, _Capitán_?" asked slowly de la Vega narrowing his eyes. "It appears that…"

He didn't finish, as Don Augustin jumped forward once again, obviously in the same state of mind as the _commandante_.

"How dared you arrest the governor's emissary, you rascals of soldiers! It is an open treason!" he yelled grasping the hilt of this sword. He didn't manage to bare even half of it, as Alejandro unceremoniously grasped his arm and forced him back.

"Leave your weapon, Augustin," he hissed warningly.

"Finally," muttered the Fox, simultaneously maneuvering his horse in such way, that the beast pushed back some other quick-tempered dons who intended to follow Augustin's example.

"What for Heaven's Sake is going on this pueblo?" asked Dominguez stupefied with eyes round like saucers. "The criminals wait calmly on the road, barging themselves in soldiers' hands like the harbor wenches… the _commandante_ suffers from amnesia… and from some kind of rabies as well, as I see… the citizens welcome me grasping their weapons… and the only man here that seems to have some reason, wears the costume worthy the wandering circus… By the way, thank you for your help, Senor," he turned toward Zorro.

"_De nada_," replied coldly the Fox.

"What happened with the emissary?" demanded Don Augustin, still struggling to free himself from de la Vega's grasp.

"Ah, emissary!" exclaimed Dominguez. "Well, this rascal indeed lies so smoothly that I must admit I would probably buy his tale, if you hadn't written me what to expect, _Capitán_," he reluctantly bowed to Monastario. "But his men were much easier to question. When they realized they really are in trouble, they eagerly used the occasion to put all the guilt on their master. They said that they killed this lancer at his orders," he added a bit quieter, but still all present heard him and the plaza froze in silence.

Even Monastario for a moment calmed himself, recalling the young lancer. Well, at least he was revenged, that was the only good thing in this catastrophe.

"But this… this cannot be true!" whispered someone.

"Oh, it is," nodded Dominguez. "As for this dressy snake, it is certain that he is no emissary… He was the _magistrado_ in Monterey, who hired a few mercenaries to play this masquerade. His men didn't say anything else… but they certainly will," he smirked.

"Where are they? Bring them here," demanded Monastario. Suddenly it dawned to him, that if Camero starts to speak… if he speaks too much… he himself might be in troubles. After all… after all his acts were ambiguous at least. Oh, damn. How much worse may the things be?

"Oh no, no. We are taking them straight to San Diego. This time I will make sure that the report gives merit to the people who really deserved it," replied bitingly Dominguez.

Monastario chewed his lip with irritation. There was a specific reason why he was the _capitán_ and Dominguez still the sergeant… and apparently the young soldier was very cautious not to repeat his previous mistake.

Suddenly a new thought crossed though his mind and he again almost choked with fury:

"You did it! You did it all on purpose!" he yelled at Dominguez. "You stupid brat, you wanted to pay me back, huh? That's why you ignored my orders and…"

"Just read this damn orders again, you madman!" called Dominguez, retreating from Monastario's anger as this time the Fox didn't move to side with him.

The _commandante_ a bit unconsciously unfolded the piece of paper he kept holding. It was his seal. It was his signature. It even looked like his handwriting, he wasn't sure anymore… but these certainly weren't his words!

"I never wrote it!" he gasped. "That's not possible! It is… it is a plot! You are under arrest! All of you!" he called wildly, looking around the plaza.

"Under what charges?" asked soberly de la Vega.

"To hell with charges!" hissed Monastario rushing at the don, when Zorro's horse again blocked his way.

"You have no reason to arrest anyone," said the bandit leaning from horseback and added slowly, stressing each word. "I spoilt your plan. I can spoil all of your plans. If I wish so, you won't even be able to plan what to eat for breakfast."

"Oh, my. That's what I call impudence," gasped Dominguez, looking at the Fox with obvious liking. "I suspected that you will have troubles dealing with the bandits on your own, _Capitán_, but this exceeds all limits I could imagine."

"After him! Garcia!" shouted Monastario, forgetting the dons, forgetting Dominguez, his all vision narrowed to the one, black figure. "After him!" he repeated seeing Garcia with lancers bursting out of _cuartel_.

"On feet?" noticed casually the Fox, not making the slightest move back. His horse lashed nonchalantly the tail and bit some dry herb that managed to grow up under the well.

"Ah, si. Gracias," muttered Garcia with grateful smile, jumping back to the stables.

"You… idiots…" moaned unconsciously Monastario, not sure to whom he directed these words. He ran a trembling hand through his hair. It was some hell, no less than a hell…

The sight of his white horse, brought by Garcia calmed him a little. He quickly swung on the saddle, turning to Dominguez.

"Sergeant?"

"Oh, no, no," Dominguez shook his head. "I have already caught the men I had to. Just when you cool off a little, let me know whether you wrote these orders or not, so that I could write about it in my report. Of course, if you insist that you have no idea what is happening in your pueblo, I won't deny you," he smirked, winking to the Fox.

Monastario didn't listen to him. He hardly heard anything but the rush of the blood in his veins. He didn't want to think either. He only watched, watched at the rider on the black horse, with the black mask on his face and wondered how much hate the man can feel. The pictures seemed to pass in front of his eyes in a slowed pace, as he watched the Fox saluting the dons at the plaza, as he watched the men quickly moving back to make place for the riders, as he watched the anxious face of Alejandro de la Vega looking behind _el Zorro – _and as he watched at Zorro himself rushing his horse toward the broken carts and jumping over them like one big black shadow.

So the _commandante_ headed his white to jump behind him, and the pictures in front of his eyes blurred in colorful streaks as he flew in the air with the wind hissing in his eyes – and as he rushed in the wild chase behind his enemy.

* * *

The mad gallop ended just at Diablo's Gulch. Zorro's black horse simply flew over it, as if the bandit's cape turned into wings somehow – Monastario could swear that some soldiers will spread such tales tomorrow – and the _commandante_ was ready to follow him, but the pitiful neigh of his horse brought him back to his senses. The poor animal swirled helplessly on the edge of the precipice, the soldiers around him moved back with desperate expressions on their faces… and the bandit danced on the other side, certain of his safety.

For a moment Monastario thought bitterly that breaking his neck at the bottom of this gulch wasn't such bad solution. Certainly it would be the easier way than returning to the pueblo and dealing with the consequences of his calamity.

Yet he wasn't a coward. Perhaps he was short-tempered, greedy, maybe even cruel. Ambitious, reckless and conceit. True. But not a coward.

Besides, he felt sorry for his horse.

He stood at the edge of the ravine for a moment longer and then he headed back, toward the pueblo.

* * *

Pina was sitting in Monastario's office, as so many times before, watching the _commandante_ walking through it as usual when he was irritated – but this time it was different. Monastario didn't beam with his usual confidence and energy, his steps were slow, his head lowered.

For the first time since Pina knew him, the _commadante_ looked defeated.

"I just don't understand how this could have happened," said Monastario in a strangled voice. "How one man could have destroyed the undertaking planned so carefully, involving so many people… One man, the outlaw, who cannot even show his face! For Heaven's Sake, even most of the dons were against him, stirred up by Camero!" he exclaimed with desperation. "I agree that he could substitute my orders with his own letter somehow, but how he made Camero ride exactly where he wanted? It is impossible, the _magistrado_ was hunting him! He would never trust him!"

_What a mess, indeed! _thought ironically Pina. _El Zorro knew so much, but he couldn't use this knowledge. Camero hated him, yet he did exactly what the bandit expected to. It is like an equation with too many unknowns… but it solves so easily when you put Diego de la Vega in each of them. _

_Diego de la Vega. The man who does Zorro's errands where the bandit cannot appear._

_I was right from the beginning, _Pina lowered his head, to hide a smirk.

"Why did you say that he could substitute your orders?" he asked a bit anxiously. The _licenciado_ had his own suspicions, suspicions connected with the certain supposedly deaf servant, a bit too familiar with his master – but he didn't want Monastario to fall on the trail leading him to the revelation Pina just grasped.

"Why not?" Monastario shrugged helplessly his shoulders. "This masked trickster walks in and out my office whenever he wishes; one night he came and calmly arranged my room, not disturbed by anyone, he could have just as well returned the next morning and changed the envelope with orders. I put Sepulveda in jail," added Monastario with tired sigh, "but to tell the truth it was none of his fault. I didn't refer him the orders, I just insisted that they are important. How could I foresee…" the _commandante_ just shook his head.

"Perhaps Camero will explain something…" noticed Pina, with reluctant shiver thinking of what Camero might confess when he will be questioned.

"Camero is dead," said shortly Monastario and then, seeing the _licenciado's_ questioning glance, explained: "The lancers escorting the prisoners to San Diego stopped for a night in some small tavern at the south trail. On the morning Camero was found with his throat cut to the spine, though he was closely guarded all the night."

"That's terrible!" exclaimed Pina with feigned terror.

To tell the truth, he wasn't surprised very much. When he passed to the certain tavern owner the information about Camero's troubles, he suspected that the events may take such direction. Camero thought that this Eagle, whoever he was, cares for his loyal people, whereas in fact he cared for his people keeping his secrets… _Accidents happen, _remarked Pina obliviously.

His thoughts quickly drifted again toward Diego de la Vega. _Oh, this man is brilliant! _he thought, taken with the wave of awe. _He found – or felt – the only weak spot of Camero: his fear and his trust in his mysterious leader. He came to the false emissary and risked so boldly, played his role so wisely, though having so little information… It was too risky perhaps, but he had no choice, if he wanted to save his father and the others… _

And he was so close to total success. Even if Camero wasn't killed, he would never betray de la Vega, as he would have to speak about the code of the feathers and the members of the conspiracy. Yes, the Fox would succeed and again get away from this adventure unharmed and unrevealed… had it not been for the fact that the _licenciado_ overheard his performance.

_And now I know his secret. Now I know for sure, _relished Pina, closing his eyes with delight.

"Camero's man I had in the cell is dead too," the gloomy voice of the _commandante_ interrupted his musings. "Poison. The investigation showed no culprits, theoretically it could be someone from the pueblo… but I suspect that it was done by one of the lancers," Monastario leant heavily on his desk, looking a few years older.

"Impossible!" cried Pina. This time he didn't feign surprise. Now, this was unpleasant news. He was sure that he would be the only one of the agents left in the pueblo… And there was still someone else.

All in all, it was good that he remained loyal to the conspiracy. When this mysterious Eagle finally arrives, he will have nothing to reproach him for.

"There is finally the matter of this damn cargo," muttered Monastario, as if answering Pina's secret thoughts. "Camero had a cart with him, he guarded very carefully," he explained wearily to the _licenciado_. "I went to his house just after he was arrested… well, just after we returned from the chase behind this bandit," he stopped for a while gritting his teeth, "but it already wasn't there. No one could say where it disappeared, just as if the big cart could suddenly disappear under the earth!" he hit the top of his desk in frustration.

Pina again lowered his head to hide a small smile. The _commandante_ had no idea how close to the solution of the riddle he was… The cargo was indeed under the earth – and it really wasn't easy to find in this old mine, where he and the inn-keeper placed two mysterious carts.

Well, not so mysterious to the _licenciado_. Before hiding the carts, he peeked under the cover… and since this moment he was certain of the one thing – he didn't want to mess with people disposing with such… resources.

"One thing is certain, it is not the end of my troubles, only the beginning," stated darkly Monastario. "This Camero wasn't a leader, in spite of his capture the conspiracy is blooming… blooming, tidying up all the clues carefully and certainly preparing the new strike!"

_And this time they won't have any doubts that you are their adversary, Enrique," _Pina finished in his thoughts what the _commandante_ didn't voice. For a moment he even felt a bit sorry for Monastario… but after all, the _licenciado_ wasn't guilty of his troubles. The _commandante_ caused them all by himself, on his own wish.

"And finally the dons." Monastario sat behind his desk, resting the elbows on its surface with a tired sigh. "They realized what I wanted to do on the plaza, they won't forget it. Never. It is only the matter of days until they will all refuse the obedience."

"What can they do?" Pina smiled consolingly. Usually he was the one to point Monastario at the possible consequences of confronting the landowners, but now he didn't bother himself with this anymore.

"Very much," the _commandante_ cut him off dryly. "Soon I will have in the district not only the cursed conspiracy of traitors and murders, but also the open rebellion."

Pina politely forced a compassionate expression on his face.

"And this is all because of this Zorro_!" _yelled suddenly Monastario, showing how fragile his self-control was. "All because of one damn, three times damn masker!" he shoved some papers from his desk, scattering them all over the room, and hit the wooden surface so hard that he must have bruised his hands. "I swear, I will get him, and then…" he didn't finish, only moaned furiously.

_You will never get him, he is too good for you, _thought Pina coldly. _Worth much more than your reward._

A few weeks ago Pina would immediately share with the _commandante_ his discovery, but now… he thought better. Even if he confided in him… at first Monastario would only laugh him off, just as he did the first time. Then he would make him a hellish row for working with Camero behind his back. Perhaps he would even arrest him, just as he did with Sepulveda.

Why the _licenciado_ should cause himself so much trouble? Monastario's feeble gratitude was not the reason enough to betray to him Diego de la Vega.

Oh, well, it wasn't that Pina intended to protect the young man. On the contrary. _He threatened me with the blade and called me a corruptive lawyer_, thought Pina vengefully. _He will pay for it. _Even the most brilliant man, the most dashing caballero, should never dismiss the patient scribbler.

But now the _licenciado_ could wait with his revenge for better occasion. This secret was worth a lot… and he intended to get the best price for it.

"Of course you will get him. It is only the matter of time," he assured Monastario mechanically, though he barely listened to the _commandante_. He was too proud relishing his knowledge… that could be turned into power so easily.

He knew where the cargo was and what was inside. He knew the identity of the famous Fox. In fact, he was now the best informed man in the pueblo.

The _licenciado_ wasn't sure yet what to do with his knowledge, but it wasn't a problem. He heard once a very old Chinese saying: _sit on the riverbank and wait… and the corpses of your enemies will float to you._

Yes, he could wait.


End file.
